


Time Won't Be Cruel

by TylerPoser



Series: Meant You Well [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (so far dun dun DUUUUNNNN), Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Stiles, Bittersweet, Derek is Always Left Out, Future Fic, Good Guy Peter, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Pining Derek, Slow Build, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Teen Angst, Young Derek, Young Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TylerPoser/pseuds/TylerPoser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by (because it gives me nice Sterek feels):<br/>"If I could save you, boy<br/>I'd do it a thousand times over<br/>And finally some day it seems<br/>that I meant you well..."</p><p>from Answering the Door by Rachael Yamagata</p><p>Stiles opened his eyes slowly, breathing out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He was lying naked on the ground. Awesome, he thought and shuddered as the chill hit him. He couldn’t quite remember where he was, or even how he’d gotten there, but he knew he was in a forest. It was early in the morning and the rosy sunlight seeped through the branches overhead casting shadows on the ground. The mist that clung to the ground created truly eerie scenery.<br/>It was so weird, he tried to figure out where exactly he was but realized that he couldn’t remember anything. Not just how he had ended up buck-naked in the middle of the forest like some twisted version of a forest nymph but anything at all. Had he been drugged?</p><p>Strangely enough he seems to know a lot about a certain family that lives in Beacon Hills. And he might've been able to make it rain once, which was nice he guessed. Purely by accident though, he didn't mean to ruin the Hale's barbecue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Just a couple of warnings so you know, you know. I'm not a native english speaker, sorry! I make errors. Sorry again. This is also a work in progress which means I will probably update it infrequently and potentially rewrite previous chapters. Last apology for now, sorry!  
> This is my first fan fiction in a really, really, long time though so I felt like I needed a little support. So if you find this interesting, I'd love to hear what you think! Keep it nice though, I have a fragile artist's soul. Hah.
> 
> Btw, I love to write to music and find a lot of inspiration from quotes and references to pop culture in general so there will be a lot of those. Find them all, it can be our little game.
> 
> If you like to listen to the songs I mention, check out my 8tracks mix: http://8tracks.com/wearecookies/time-won-t-be-cruel

 

**"Sure, you can laugh and pretend like nothing’s wrong…”**

 

Stiles opened his eyes slowly, breathing out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He was lying naked on the ground. _Awesome_ , he thought and shuddered as the chill hit him. He couldn’t quite remember where he was, or even how he’d gotten there, but he knew he was in a forest. It was early in the morning and the rosy sunlight seeped through the branches overhead casting shadows on the ground. The mist that clung to the ground created truly eerie scenery.

 

It was so weird, he tried to figure out where exactly he was but realized that he couldn’t remember anything. Not just how he had ended up buck-naked in the middle of the forest like some twisted version of a forest nymph but anything at all. Had he been drugged?

 

“Who are you?” The sharpness of the sudden voice startled him out of his inner panic.

 

Stiles turned around to see a frowning teenager standing by a tree a couple of feet away from him. He must’ve been a freaking cat because he had made no sound whatsoever. He seemed to be a  little bit shorter than Stiles. He couldn't have been more than 15 or 16 years old. Stiles quickly thought over his options; either he comes up with a great lie or he tells the truth. If he lied the boy would probably just offer him some help, maybe lead him out of the forest, but then what? He sighed.

“I know this sounds crazy, believe me I know, but I don’t know… Who I am, that is. Not a clue.” He stood up, which in retrospect might not have been such a great idea considering he wasn’t wearing anything! He quickly covered his junk with a flailing hand.

 

The boy choked out a breath. “Rough night?” Pink tinged his cheeks and it was obvious he was trying to not look down. “Is this some kind of hazing thing or are you some pervert?”

 

Stiles tried to plaster his best I’m-not-a-total-creep smile, which was just a regular mortified smile since he didn’t think he had that kind of smile. Well, now he probably needed to practice in front of the mirror since apparently it was needed. “Uh, not a creep,” he said with cheek burning hotter than the fiery pits of Mount Doom, “dude, I think I’m just as traumatized as you are. Probably more, since I’m the one who woke up naked in a fucking forest. Please tell me you have a phone and that I can use it.”

 

The teenager shrugged. “Not on me.”

 

Stiles waited a beat to see if the guy would say something else. He didn’t. He just continued to stare at Stiles with his intense grayish green eyes. “Well, then don’t mind me.” Stiles said and made a carry-on motion with the hand that wasn’t trying to cling to what little dignity he had left.

 

“Do you want help?”

 

Stiles chortled. _Hah, chortled, that was a funny word_. “Nah, I’d think I’m just gonna stay here and die of humiliation. Or the cold, whichever is quicker.”

 

The teenager gave him a blank stare for a beat and then smirked as he tossed him his leather jacket, which Stiles caught awkwardly, forgetting to cover himself. “Come on, I’ll show you out.” He turned and started to leave.

 

Stiles wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the jacket. Sure, he knew the concept of a jacket, to protect from the cold. But when your nude a jacket isn’t really what you want unless you’re a nudist and you’re just a bit cold. Would it be rude to wrap it around his waist like some kind of Lady Gaga-esque loincloth? Yeah, probably, he thought. If he were the one offering his jacket to some random guy in the forest he wouldn’t want them to get their ass and dick all up in it. He resigned, pulled it on and scrambled to keep up with his guide, covering himself with both hands.

 

 

The teenager stopped close to what Stiles assumed was the edge of the forest. “Uh, you should probably wait here. I’ll get you something to wear and some shoes, okay?” He was gone before Stiles could even answer. _Asshole_. How he could move so quickly was kind of mind-boggling. Maybe this was just a weird dream, kind of like those embarrassing ones where your naked and you never find any clothes, you have to walk around in the buff, and then you meet everyone you ever met and they all act like it's normal while you're dying inside. Stiles knew that dream, which was bullshit really. If he could remember one thing about himself why the hell did it have to be an embarrassing dream he'd had? Well, at least the dream scenario made more sense than waking up naked in the forest with partial amnesia.

 

It had gone fifteen minutes since the guy had left Stiles and he was now shivering like he never before, well technically he couldn’t remember any other time he had even been cold, and Stiles was just done. He was so cold he couldn’t even think properly anymore. He understood why the guy had just left him there; he probably would have done something similar. Of course he couldn’t just go tromping around town with no clothes on. But he could’ve given him something more to wear or at least tell him where he was going and how long it would take so Stiles didn’t have to feel so abandoned and utterly helpless. He had waited enough, if the kid didn’t return he’d freeze to death and his balls had already gone numb. Losing a testicle to hypothermia was not something he wanted to ever experience.

 

He started walking in the direction where the other guy had taken of in. It was a stupid idea, he knew that if you’re lost you’re supposed to stay put. But he was just so cold and, as the minutes passed, so afraid. His foot got caught in something he hadn’t seen and he tumbled pathetically into a crumpled mess of limbs. As tried to stand up he winced from a stab of pain in his entire leg. Great, all that was missing was an axe-murderer and then the teenage-slasher film that apparently was his life would be set. _They’ll find the murdered body of my dead deceased corpse…naked,_ he thought and couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. He was just so cold, so scared, and so alone… So everything. Then he just couldn’t breathe anymore. He tried to but it felt like someone was compressing his chest. He could feel his heartbeat pumping like a bass drum in his throat and his mouth had gone so dry he couldn’t taste anything. Darkness was creeping in from the corners of his field of vision, slowly clouding his sight even though his eyes were open. He was passing out, some part of his brain told him even though the rest kept screaming like he was dying. The last thing he remembered before he truly lost consciousness was feeling really warm.

He welcomed it.

 

 

 **・** **∞・**

 

 

There were voices speaking in harsh tones and some yelling. The yelling sounded like it came from a defiant petulant kid, like those times when you were blamed for something that you didn’t feel were your fault or responsibility. Then there was some kind of growling and the yelling stopped. He had to laugh, he wasn’t dead and the guy who abandoned him was getting his ass handed to him.

 

“You shouldn’t argue with alpha werewolves.” The words were out of Stiles mouth before he even knew what they meant. _What the hell?_

 

He opened his eyes. He was lying in a big bed, thankfully in pair of pajamas bottoms and a t-shirt. The bedroom was airy and bright so he probably hadn't slept for so long. A couple of hours tops. The four people who had been arguing with each other was staring at him in complete and utter disbelief, like he had just told them the sun revolved around the earth.

 

And then all hell broke loose. Their eyes changed colors and began glowing like some weird nightlights. All that growling he had been hearing was now directed at him, but it didn’t sound like the low rumbling like earlier; it was forceful and threatening.

 

“Who are you?” the woman with glowing red eyes bit out between growls. _Alpha,_ his mind supplied but he didn’t know what that meant. He crawled closer to the headboard in some panicked attempt to get as far away from the people– _werewolves? -_ as he could. What the hell had he gotten himself tangled up in?

 

“I- I don’t know,” he squeaked, yes, squeaked. When he didn’t fear for his life anymore he would deny that.

 

The Alpha leveled him with a considering look and just like that her eyes returned to their earlier pale greyish-green they had been before Stiles put his foot in his mouth. The others reluctantly followed suit and stopped growling like territorial dogs. “You’re not lying,” she said, just like that, as if she had some kind of internal lie detector test. _Werewolf,_ Stiles reminded himself, so maybe she did.

 

Stiles let out a breath. “I’m sorry if a said something wrong. I don’t know how I know what you are, I just do.” He looked over to the teenager who he had met in the forest; he was scowling at him like he had personally offended them. Maybe he had, werewolf etiquette wasn’t his forte.

 

Then the man next to the Alpha started laughing. Not just a little, he literally threw his head back and laughed with his entire being. It was kind of something. Everyone else looked at him like he just grew to heads but they too had trouble remaining hostile. Even the corners of the Alpha’s mouth quirked upward a little.

 

“You’re quite something,” the man gasped between laughs, clutching his stomach. He steadied himself and took a few calming breaths before he tried to speak again, smirking. “Do you know who we are?” His eyes were gleaming with keen interest.

 

Stiles thought about that for a moment. “The Hale pack?” he said, the familiar words were spilling out of his mouth on their own. “Peter.” He didn’t know how he knew the man’s name but he did. As he said it, it felt right.

 

Peter’s smirk grew to a genuine smile. “What are you?”

 

“Stiles.”

 

“What’s a ‘stiles’?” It was the guy who had found him in the forest who asked. He was still scowling; not fearsome as earlier but petulantly like he was missing a joke everyone else was laughing at. Stiles felt his lips quirk upwards involuntarily.

 _Derek,_ his mind supplied.

 

**“...But I know everything about you because you used to be mine.”**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the song Inga Kläder by Veronica Maggio. (I'd translate it as "No clothes", fitting I know.)  
> You should listen to it, it's good!  
> I've tried to translate the quotes in the beginning and the end as accurately as possible but I'm not a translator or anything so it might be a little bit off. There's one in lyrics translate.com that I thought was very clunky and some parts were wrong so I didn't want to use that one so...
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than I'd like but I thought it set the mood, so to speak. I promise future chapter will be longer and very. (Watched The Heathers last night, sorry)


	2. Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly thing are starting to make sense-ish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, you guys. Thought I'd have this up by Friday night but I wasn't happy with how the chapter was turning out so I was rewriting it like a maniac. We are now at Chapter 2 edition 3.
> 
> Also, thank you so very much for all the kudos, bookmarks and comments. You guys make it fun to write! :)
> 
> By the by, flashbacks will be italicised as well as internal monologues. Just to make clear the following flashback is NOT something Stiles remember.

 

  

**_Beacon Hills, 2018._ **

**_“The bridge is narrow, you better not look down.”_ **

_“Stiles.” It was actually kind of amazing how Derek was always able to put so much meaning behind a single word. Well, Stiles wasn’t entirely surprised, he was the master of monosyllables. Once in the middle of a fight they were having he had told Derek that he should write haikus and recite them at that nice café when they had open mic night. He’d be fucking amazing at it. Derek hadn’t taken it as a compliment of course. Instead he had let out the longest sigh in history and rubbed the bridge of his nose like he couldn’t believe the indignities he had to suffer through, and quite honestly Stiles couldn’t believe it either sometimes._

_“Stiles,” he said again like he knew Stiles wasn’t even remotely listening to him, which he wasn’t. Derek, the ass, knew of course.“Please, please, tell me you’re not about to try something potentially dangerous just because you’re too stubborn to let me help.”_

_Stiles huffed out a breath and had the presence of mind to actually feign being appalled. Damn, Derek knew him too well. “How many times do I have to tell you, Growly-face. We, you and I, we’re a team.” Fortunately, spending five years running around scared shitless in the Preserve had taught him how to lie to werewolves. The secret behind it is: You never lie to werewolves. It was simple actually if you just avoid answering their questions directly but still tell them a truth that seems like the answer they’re looking for they’re just as easily manipulated as anyone._

_Derek narrowed his eyes, listening for any hint of a lie. “Okay,” he said finally, relaxing. He drew Stiles in and wrapped his arms around him, seeking comfort and reassurance. “I know you’re getting stronger and you don’t need me to protect you but I just worry. I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you.”_

_Stiles looked him straight in his stupidly pale, beautiful eyes. He saw all the fear behind them. Fear of losing his pack again, his anchor, and knew that he had to do it. He steeled himself and put on an easy, content smile. “I know, big guy. That’s the same reason I do things that are potentially dangerous. So you won’t have to.”_

_Derek kissed him just under his jawline. “Then let’s stop doing that. I trust you, Stiles. Let’s just stop trying to save each other from the big bad world and just face it together.” He sniffed affectionately behind his ear; it brought a genuine smile to Stiles lips. It was something he started doing a couple of years ago when Stiles had told him that if he didn’t say what was on his mind, what he was feeling, they’d never be more than a brief fling. To that day, Derek still said that it gave him the courage to let Stiles in._

_Stiles took his head in his hands, cradling him delicately and gave him the softest kiss he could manage without crying. Derek smiled into the kiss, took it as an agreement just like Stiles knew he would. It was an apology, for all the not-lies, for all the secrets and for what he was about to do. It was also a good bye._

 

**_“As soon as you jump over you won’t find nobody around.”_ **

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**“With earth and sky you cheer and sigh, writhe as all your days go by…”**

  
Stiles stared at Derek with a blank look. “I don’t know.” He didn’t even know why he said that. It was strange, knowing something without remembering how you came upon the knowledge or what it means. But he knew it was true, he was Stiles. Whatever that meant. “I think that’s who I am…”

 

Derek huffed. “That’s your name?” He arched a bushy eyebrow. “What kind of name is that?”

 

Peter chuckled, his eyes glittering in the light like a child who just got a shiny new toy. That was a disturbing analogy. “I like Stiles.”

 

Stiles didn’t know why but Peter made him feel wary like he shouldn’t let his guard down around him even though he was the only one who was friendly. Maybe he knew him before he lost his memories that would explain why he knew they were werewolves. But that still didn’t explain why they didn’t know him, which would mean that he only knew of them. Enough to know they weren’t humans.

 

The Alpha finally spoke again after watching him with suspicion. “You’re not a hunter?”

 

Stiles didn’t know what a she meant but he figured that it was probably not deer she wanted to know if he was hunting. That was a tricky question since if he was a hunter and couldn’t remember he’d either lie, without even knowing it was a lie, or tell the truth. Either way it wouldn’t really make any difference. If he said no and that was a lie, she still wouldn’t be able to tell he was lying since as far as he knew it was the truth. Or maybe that wasn’t how it worked, maybe werewolves knew the ultimate truths but that was a little weird. That would mean you could tell them all kinds of thing about the universe and they’d be able to tell if it was the truth or not. Like if God was real or humans was distantly related to other hominids. He highly doubted that, the ultimate truth thing not the one about hominids. He was all for evolution theories. He settled for telling the only truth he knew at the moment and hoped that it would appease her for now. “I- uh. I don’t know. I can’t remember,” he said as looked at her straight in the eyes without wavering, “and that probably doesn’t help you trust me. But it’s the truth.”

 

He tried to project an aura of non-hostility. It was a long shot but sometimes affirmations really worked. _I’mnotathreattoyouI’mnotathreattoyouI’mnotathreattoyou._ He kept repeating that mantra in his head and tried to appear as non-threatening as possible. He knew you shouldn’t look certain predators in the eyes because they took it as a challenge. _Does that work on werewolfs? Better not take any chances._ He stared at her nose.  _Notathreatnotathreatnotathreat._

 

She looked at him for what felt like an eternity, her pale eyes narrowing slightly as she pondered what he had said. She sniffed the air subtly as if she was trying to pick up a scent like a dog. Something she smelled or what he had said must’ve appeased her because slowly she nodded slightly and it was like all the tension bled away from the room. The other werewolves didn’t let their guard down but they didn’t look as edgy as they did earlier. Well, except for Peter who was grinning like it was his birthday. “What do you remember?”

 

“Except for waking up naked in the forest?” She nodded. “Nothing, really.”

 

Her gaze intensified. “Except who we are.”

 

Stiles didn’t know how to respond to that. He smiled sheepishly. “I guess.”

 

She watched him for a beat and then turned to Derek. “Will you help him out of bed and make sure he gets something to eat.” It wasn’t a question really; she spoke the words like a command, like an alpha. No was apparently not an answer.

 

Derek bristled. “Why can’t Peter do it?”

 

Her eyes flashed red for just a fraction of a second but it was enough of a warning for Derek. “Peter didn’t leave him in the middle of the forest.”

 

Derek shoulders slumped and he scowled petulantly. “Fine.”

 

That was apparently all that needed to be said. The Alpha smiled at Derek and then walked out of the room, followed by the man Stiles assumed was her husband or something.

 

Peter lingered by the bed, still grinning at Stiles. “You sure do make things interesting here, Stiles. I’m looking forward to know exactly what you’ll do next.” And then just like that he was gone. _Freaking werewolf speed._

Derek still scowled at him and it was starting to piss Stiles off. It’s not like it was all his fault. Derek had just left him no explanation and he hadn’t been able to think straight. “I’m sorry you got in trouble and all but can you cut that out? It’s not like it’s my fault.”

 

Derek drew closer; his scowl had suddenly turned back to murderous. “It’s entirely your fault. I told you to wait and that I’d be back and when I did you were just gone. I couldn’t even follow your scent. It took us hours to find you.”

 

 _What the hell?_ “Why couldn’t you follow my scent?" He figured it was something werewolves should be able to do. "Are you a beginner or something? A werewolf apprentice?” He probably shouldn’t have said that, in retrospect, but he got scared and whenever he’s scared he apparently just unleashes a slew of insults. _Who needs an ink pouch when you can confuse predators by making them question there decisions in life._ Learning new things about yourself in inconvenient moments, such fun.

 

Derek’s entire face changed, his brow bone became more prominent and his bushy eyebrows were suddenly not there anymore. His lips had parted and sharp fangs were protruding. Then a loud growl, more like a roar, came from another room and Derek flinched; face normal.

 

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time, although Derek said it like a little kid who was forced by his parents, which was entirely the case.

Stiles flung the covers and came to the realization that his foot was in a cast. How he had not noticed the hot, uncomfortable thing was beyond him. Maybe he only noticed things about his body if he could see them. Worst super power ever. “Please tell me I didn’t break my ankle.”

 

“You didn’t break your ankle?” Derek said uncertainly and scratched the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

 

Stiles threw his hands above his head in exasperation. “You are the worst. Literally, the worst.”

 

“It wasn’t my fault, remember!” He was apparently back to scowling petulantly.

 

“Whatever you say. But whenever Timmy fell down the well, Lassie got help and he always got out unscathed. You got upstage by a freaking collie, dude. That’s just sad.” _Maybe that was a little harsh?_ The howling laughter that came from somewhere downstairs from various Hales told Stiles differently.

 

“Shut up, Stiles.”

 

The scowl was apparently his default expression around Stiles. That was fine, decided he like pushing Derek’s buttons.

 

 

 

 **・** **∞・**

 

 

 

It wasn’t until he was sitting by the dinner table, nursing on a cup of coffee that he got officially introduced to the Hales. The Alpha’s name was Talia. She was dark-haired, had the same pale eyes and prominent cheekbones as Derek, and more importantly could apparently switch from nurturing to vicious in a heartbeat. It was both funny and terrifying. She had given Stiles his coffee and a bran muffin to munch on, while her husband made them a very late breakfast, with the familiarity of a doting mother. Stiles had to remind himself that twenty minutes ago she had been snarling and growling like a feral beast.

 

Her husband’s name was Alden and he was awesome. He was kind of short, quiet and not very imposing, Stiles guessed, not what you would expect from someone married to the Alpha. But he had asked Stiles what type of pancakes he liked and when Stiles said chocolate chips he had just open a cupboard, pulled out a bag and poured the entire thing into the mix. By the the size of that bag Stiles was looking forward to some real chocolaty goodness. When he presented Stiles with a stack of pancakes oozing chocolate like miniature volcanoes he just laughed and ruffled his hair. It was odd how the atmosphere had changed.

 

Laura was Derek sister and the oldest of the Hale's four children. She and her twin brother Clark looked like younger version of their parents, it was actually kind of frightening. Only Clark was taller than Alden, with a more muscly physique and the same pale grey green eyes as Talia. They were bickering about some old dispute when Stiles stumbled in, using Derek as his temporary crutch, but had quiet down and pulled him into a conversation about TV shows and sci-fi movies. The youngest was Cora. She just like Derek looked like a balanced mix between their parents but unlike her siblings she didn’t have the same pale eyes. Instead she took more after her father and got his warm brown eyes.

 

Just as Stiles finished his pancakes a bald, stoic man walked into the dining room with a strange familiarity. There was something about him that put Stiles on edge. A tension in the air, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on but still made his stomach tie up in knots.

 

“Alan,” Alden said with a smile waving him towards an empty seat. “Do you want some coffee?”

 

“Ah, so he’s awake,” he said softly as he sat down with an unreadable expression on his face, ignoring Alden’s question and focused entirely on Stiles. It was unsettling. “I take it you got your answers?” The question was obviously addressed to Talia but he still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Stiles since he entered.

 

Talia froze with a fork halfway to her mouth. “Ah,” she spluttered, struggling find an answer. “No, not exactly anyways.”

 

Alan was obviously surprised by that. His eyebrows rose slowly as he regarded Talia with a curious gaze. “You don’t seem to concern by his motives.”

 

Talia narrowed her eyes and looked from Stiles to the bald man. “He told me enough for now. I called you over because I was hoping you could make some sense of what he has told us so far.”

 

“Of course,” he turned back to Stiles and made a motion for him to talk.

 

“Well, I-uh. I woke up in forest,” Stiles began. His was cheeks burning. “I was naked and cold and I couldn’t remember where I was or how I got there.”

 

“Hm, strange.” He was scratching under his chin as he took in what Stiles said. _What, is he some kind of werewolf shaman?_ “What is the last thing you remember?”

 

“Nothing,” Stiles said with a sheepish smile. “I have literally no memories of anything at all.”

 

“Except who we are,” Talia said watching Stiles intensely. It was obvious that she had picked up that he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t remember anything at all so she must’ve jumped to the conclusion that he was lying and could fool her. “How do you know who we are Stiles?” There was a hint of a growl in her voice.

 

He was found out. _Zoinks!_ “Okay, here’s the thing. I’m not lying. I don’t remember anything.” _Pregnant pause._ “It’s semantics, I know, but I have no memories of anything yet I can still know things. I know things I must have learned at some point but I can’t remember learning them. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid it might freak you out. Me knowing things about your family, I mean.”

“Interesting,” Alan said effectively turning all attention back to him. He was watching Stiles while absentmindedly taping his chin with his index finger. “You have no memories but all the knowledge you’ve attain is at your disposal?”

 

“Yeah, I-uh. I guess.” It wasn’t like he knew everything just bits and pieces came back at random. It was obvious he was missing bigger pieces of what he had known. “But I can’t really control it. I just realize I know something.”

 

Alan pondered that for a moment then turned his attention to Talia. “You have nothing to fear from this young man.” He said it like he knew for sure and how he came to that conclusion was lost to anyone in the room. “It seems that young Stiles here had been messing with something or someone powerful. What, I cannot know for sure.”

 

“You mean something did this to him?” Derek asked, speaking for the first time since he settled at the table. “There wasn’t any strange scent in the forest. Just him.”

 

“There wouldn’t be.” How he could manage implying that level of doom in such a short sentence was kind of impressive. He must’ve been practicing this in front of the mirror. Or, a more terrifying thought, he might have conversations like this often. He turned to Talia. “You should keep him close by. Whatever he got himself tangled up in will most likely not want to approach while he’s under Alpha protection.”

 

Talia nodded slowly. “I see.”

 

Apparently he doesn’t like it when people make decisions for him like he isn’t capable of thinking for himself. He was fuming. “So what I just sit around here until I remember who I am?” This was absolute bullshit. He had a life, a family probably that might miss him. He should be going to the police, the hospital and get himself checked out. Not sit and hang around a bunch- _pack,_ his mind supplied- of werewolves and their creepy keeper. _Hah, creep-keeper._

 

Alan gave him a small smile. “Oh, no. You’ll most likely never remember anything.”

 

**“And laugh as you die.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Stiles :(  
> I know I promised a longer chapter, which I indeed wrote, but I decided to split it in two for now so I could polish the second part. I might keep it split in two depending on how I finish the part 2
> 
> Title and quotes from Paper Doll by the ever so lovely Rachael Yamagata. Check her out if you don't know her!
> 
> Oh, and I'm not sure about the line "earth and sky..." I've seen both "cry" and "sigh" in different versions and I'm sure I've heard her sing both... or I might be wrong. I'm pretty sure that she sings "sigh" in the one I have though, unless I need to check my hearing.  
> If you know without a doubt feel free to tell me. :)


	3. Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the mystery man himself. And more non-flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I probably won't be able to update as often as I'd like. It's May now which means my teachers are trying to kill me by making me review way to much grammar for the JLPTs. I'd say you should feel sorry for me but really, I'm kind of living my dream life so... I'll try to find a happy medium between working myself to death and staying alive. It's Golden Week now so if my boyfriend does't distract me, maybe I'll have another chapter up soon. Pray, my pretties :) 
> 
> Oh, yeah, Derek's the alpha in future!verse because why wouldn't he be? *puts hands over ears and run away humming the Teen Wolf intro*
> 
> Inspired by and quotes from Siren Song by Bat for Lashes.

 

 

**“Are you my family?”**

_WHAT?!_ Everything in Stiles mind was trying to make out what the weirdo-whatever he was- had just said. The thing was, it didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Was he not going to be able to keep any memories like he had anal leakage of the mind? _Memory incontinence, is that a thing?_ And as if the douchebag didn’t think being vague and ominous was enough, he had said it with a fucking smile on his face. _“Oh, hey, no big. You’ll just keep reliving the same confusing day forever.”_

“What does that mean?” Peter bit out, struggling to keep his cool. When Stiles looked around he noticed that everyone had suddenly gotten very tense. Like they were all appalled by what the man had said. It was weird and yet oddly comforting to know he wasn’t alone in questioning the guy’s bedside manners. At least it meant that they were on his side, for whatever reason.

 

“Like, anything?” he asked, not even knowing he had spoken until he heard his own familiar voice.

 

Alan cleared his throat, still keeping that small smile on his lips like he was oblivious all the angry glares he was getting. “Whatever happened to you took power. Quite a lot, actually. What you have to understand is that destroying something is easy but altering it to something so specific takes power, much more than I’ve ever encountered before. To alter a person mind, block memories, with that kind of precision takes practice and a lot of knowledge. I have never heard of anything quite like this before.” He looked at Stiles from up and down as if assessing him once more. “I’m surprised you’re still alive, which is why I say that you’ll probably never get your memories back. At least not naturally. You're mind is fine, though.”

 

Stiles let out a huff of relief. “Oh, so I’m not doomed to suffer from dementia or something?” It was weird to feel relieved by that kind of news. Still he figured that was much better than what he had been imagining. “For a while there I thought you meant something worse.”

 

Peter snapped his eyes to Stiles, with a confused frown and cocked his head slightly to the side in a canine manner. “You’re taking this well? Why?”

 

It was apparently the question everyone had been thinking. Everyone stared at him with the same look. _Must be a family thing._ “I’m not really. I guess it’s hard to be upset about something you don’t even know about.” That didn’t make any sense even to Stiles himself so he wasn’t surprised when they were looking even more confused than before. “I mean I don’t know who I was before so I can’t really say I’m sad about not remembering it. At least not now.”

 

“Well, for now I we should look into who you are. It’s entirely possible that you’re not from around these parts. Knowing who you are might give us some kind of clue as to what happened to you. But like I said even if we know doesn’t mean we can fix it.”

 

“I get it,” Stiles said with a smile he didn’t feel. “I won’t get my hopes up. I just want to know if there’s someone missing me.”

 

“I will go down to the station and speak with the Sheriff,” Talia said in an "I’m in charge" voice. “He’s a friend so I think I can work some information out of him without causing too much suspicion. If what Alan said is true about the potential danger you’re in then that means it’s better you stay here. We can’t let it be known you’re here when we don’t know if something is looking for you.”

 

It made sense and it was for his benefit but it didn’t mean Stiles liked it. The idea of just sitting around with stranger when he should be looking for his family, if he had any, wasn’t sitting right. “I get that it’s for safety an all but I mean you’re werewolves. Wouldn’t I be just as safe with you at the station than here?”

 

Talia smiled sweetly. “There are far worse things in the world than werewolves. Sadly, something tells me you knew that once.”

 

“So we are all thinking that someone did this to me. I didn’t, like, eat the wrong kind of mushrooms while hiking or something?”

 

They all gave him the same unimpressed look. Apparently perfect synchronization came with being a werewolf or maybe they practiced it.  _Synchronised swimming for werewolves._ The thought almost made him chuckle.

“I take that as a no.” He sighed. “So what about these non-flashbacks or déjà-whatever-they-are?“  _Déjà-connaissance?_

 

“Well, it seems like your memories been tampered with without comprising your knowledge of certain things, which is why I say that it must have taken incredible power. Some things you have learn may come back to you, like you have already experienced, without having any memories of it.” Which was exactly what Stiles had told him minutes ago. “I imagine you have experienced feelings and reactions to things you have no reason to experience too. This might seem like something you want, a step in recalling who you are, but I’ll caution you not to investigate it further. The more you try to pursue them the more risk you are to alerting whatever caused this or, far more likely, destroying your mind in the process.”

 

“So there’s a chance I’ll what- die- from something I can’t even control?” How the hell was he supposed to live with that? “It’s not like I can just go in to ‘system preferences’ and shut down knowledge-stream.”

 

They all looked at him like he had grown an extra head. “You know… Like photo stream?” he explained in hope that they’d get the reference. They didn’t. “No, iPhone users? No. Okay, whatever.”

 

Alan cleared his throat, trying to get back to the topic at hand. “It’s possible I can find something about it. In the meantime I know some meditation techniques that won’t stop it but at least with practice it will teach you how to block it out and clear your mind.”

 

He could do that, be all Jedi and zen, no problem. It wasn’t like his mind had gone a mile a minute since he had woken up. But there was a more pressing matter that had been bothering ever since he stepped into the kitchen, and apparently the alternative universe where he had not just met these people merely hours earlier. If he didn’t know differently he’d say he was part of the family or at least on old family friend. “Why are you doing this?” Okay, that did not come out exactly as he had wanted it. Especially not without the context he had not vocalized.

 

Talia looked at him oddly. “You don’t want our help then?”

 

Stiles held up his hand in surrender, trying to find away to rephrase his confusion. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.” He flashed them a sheepish smile. _Darn foot in my mouth._ “I’m just wondering why you’re so nice. Don’t get me wrong, I like nice. Stick with nice, it’s better than growly.” He extenuated it by make a childish clawing gesture. “But that’s kind of why I’m confused. ‘Cause you were all growly not that long ago and know you’re just nice and I'm not sure why.”

 

Talia looked thoughtful for a moment. “You smell like pack,” she said finally, with an alphas certainty.

 

 

**“Can I stay with you a while?”**

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Beacon Hills, 2016.**

**“I’ll be good, I think I could be all you would want and more and more.”**

**_“_ ** _Try again. But this time concentrate,” Deaton said and opened a window. “Don’t let your mind wander, Stiles.”_  
  
 _Stiles looked at the little candle once again. They had been going at this for hours and he was exhausted but that had been the point. Doing the simple feat over and over again so that he could do it without even trying later. Stiles knit his brow in concentration, feeling a small drop of sweat trickle down his brow as he closed his eyes. He emptied his mind of stray thoughts, just Deaton had taught him when he began his training, and tried to focus on what was just there in the present. He felt the slight warmth from the flickering candle, the itch that ran over his skin as his sweat dried, the welcomed cooling breeze from the window and his own steady heartbeat. He drew from the breeze and let the feeling of coldness wash over him. He could do it, it was easy gathering that feeling, that energy, and directing it to the candle with intent. He opened his eyes and stared at the little flame. ‘Extinguish,’ he thought as he released it upon the flame._

_The small flame flickered once and then a fraction of a second later it was ice. The gases that had burned just a moment ago formed a perfect flame-like sculpture. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed, losing his concentration. The ice melted almost as quickly as it had been formed in a vapor cloud. “Did I just flash freeze fire?”_   
  
_Deaton shook his and massaged the bridge of his nose, but Stiles could see that he had that little smile on his lips. He was totally impressed. “You know what fire is so you know that’s not how it works.”_

_Stiles huffed out a breath. He knew he hadn’t really frozen fire since it was just a combustion process but that sounded way cooler than just freezing gases._

_“Fine, I froze the hell out of that smoke, which is all kinds of awesome by the way. I just skipped condensation and went straight to solid. That’s deposition and I did that with my mind. Tell me that wasn’t awesome.”_

_Deaton chuckled. “It was impressive.” Seeing as that came from the Zen master himself that was high praise indeed._

_Stiles bowed and pulled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. “And for my next trick-“_

_Deaton held up his hands with a look of mock on his face. He was oddly expressive. “I think we should call this a night. I think you got the hang of extinguishing candles. Next time maybe you can float a feather.”_

_A joke, now Stiles knew the apocalypse was nigh. “Har dee har har.” He eyed the usually stoic man with suspicion. “Have you been sneaking animal tranqs?”_

_Before Deaton could respond, or more likely raise a brow and ignore the comment, the door open and Derek walked in looking all red eyed and perturbed. “Stiles!”_

_“I’ve been here the whole time, working with Deaton,” Stiles said turning to Derek with an easy smile._

_Derek didn’t seem to be mollified by that explanation. “Stiles,” he said again, this time with a hint of a growl._

_Stiles raised his hands in surrender. “Look it’s not my fault this ‘It’s not magic, Stiles’-thing takes time. I know I said I’d be back by 10 and it’s,“ he checked the time on his phone, “way over 12. Okay, I can see why you’re mad but you know I’ve been here all night. Can we not with the Alpha-thing now. I’m exhausted.”_

_Derek huffed; eyes reverted to normal, and turned on his heel and walked out. Stiles had to fight back a smile. Derek was always so cute when he pouted._

_“Yeah, let’s call this a night,” he said to Deaton with a sheepish look. “Got to go back with the old ball and chain before he decides to terrorize the Beacon Hills wild life. Won’t someone please think of the bunnies.”_

_“How noble of you.” Deaton said and waved his hand like he was dismissing Stiles._

_When Stiles pulled up open the door to the Camaro and got in the passenger seat he could practically feel the tension in the air. Stiles tried to turn on the radio when Derek turned on ignition and started driving out of the parking lot but Derek slapped his hand away from the console with a growl. Because, honestly, there’s nothing like an angry car ride in complete silence._

_“Is that really how you see me?” Derek said after what felt like an eon._

_“What?” Stiles would’ve cracked some remark but there was something about the way Derek was staring straight ahead like he was scared of meeting Stiles eyes. That boded trouble, it meant that Derek was actually genuinely hurt or was going to hurt him. Either way, it was not good._

_“Do you think I’m just a bother?” He clenched his hands, nearly crushing the steering wheel. Again._

_Okay, Stiles did not see that one coming. “What, no. Jesus, no.” He thought back about what had happened and tried to figure out why Derek would think that. Sure, he had been late but it wasn’t like it was something new. They did this song and dance every other week. Stiles would be at the library studying or something and lose track of time. Derek would rush over there, all fangs and red eyes, they’d trade some snipes and “Stiles!” and then when they got home they’d have the most mind-blowing, you-kept-me-waiting-in-bed-all-night-sex of the century. It was a good rut, Stiles liked that rut but something was obviously different this time._

_Derek parked the car in the lot for the apartments and turned off the ignition. He didn’t wait for Stiles to say anything else or add anymore to the conversation, instead he got out of the car and walked towards his building. Stiles sat in the car not sure if that had been the end of it or what was going through Derek mind. He rushed to keep up with Derek but it proved useless. The werewolf kept a brisk pace all the way to his apartment, not even leaving the door open for Stiles. He tried the handle, it was open. That was something at least._

_Stiles cornered Derek by the refrigerator in the midst of pulling out a bottle of water. “What’s happening here?”_

_Derek glanced at him, the hurt in his eyes was apparent but it seemed to have lessened at Stiles earlier admittance but he still didn’t quite meet his eyes head-on. Well, he wasn't staring intensely like he usually did, which would have been normal if it was anyone other than Derek. This raised all the warning flags. “So you don’t think I’m an ‘old ball and chain’?” He said it so low Stiles almost didn’t catch it._

_Okay, thing made more sense know. He had called Derek that at Deaton’s office. It still didn’t explain why Derek was acting the way he was. They traded barbs like that all the time and it was hardly the worst thing he had called the werewolf. In fact he had said it in a fond way. “What? Of course not, it was just a joke. What the hell is going on with you? Why are you making this into something it isn’t?”_

 

_Derek snorted. “Oh, sorry for being upset!” he said as he side stepped Stiles, took a swig of water and flopped down on the coach._

_Stiles took a calming breath. “Okay, sorry. But why are you so upset? This isn’t how we do things, you know. I call you things all the time and you tell me to shut up or threaten to murder me or something equally horrific. I thought that was our dynamic… Why is this so different?”_

 

_Derek shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”_

_Stiles sat down on the coffee table in front of Derek forcing him to look him in the eyes. “I **don’t** understand. But I’m trying to.” _

_“I **am**  old, Stiles!” Derek exclaimed, flashing his red eyes. He was blushing so hard his face almost matched his eyes. “I’m a werewolf and all my instincts tell me that when I’m not with you something isn’t right. I always have to know where you are. I always have to know what you’re doing otherwise I go crazy.” He looked down at his feet. “I’m old and I’m…clingy.” _

_He said the word with vitriol, like it was the worst thing in the entire world. It wasn't though, not to Stiles at least. It was probably the cutest thing Stiles had ever heard him say and despite all effort he could stop the laugh that bubbled out of him. Derek was usually so sure of himself at least when it came to their relationship. Stiles was the one who was always questioning what Derek saw in him, the one who was insecure. It was just too much. Derek looked chocked for a second and than growled loudly. “Fuck you, Stiles.”_

_He got up and was trying to leave but Stiles blocked him in with his legs. “I’m sorry. Sorry,” he said, still fighting back the ungodly laugh that was crawling out from his very core and wiped the tears from his eyes. He grabbed Derek wrist with a hand. “I didn’t mean to laugh it’s just that I think that’s the cutest thing you’ve ever said.” Derek growled louder, trying harder to leave, which wasn’t all that much since if he really wanted to, he would’ve. It’s not like Stiles could ever physically try to stop an alpha from going somewhere._

_“Come on sit down, Sourwolf. Do you really think after all this time I hadn’t noticed your control issues?”_

_“I don’t have control issues.” He used his Alpha voice but at least he sat back down._

_Stiles raised his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, Alpha. What I meant was I know you, Derek.” He poked Derek with his index finger. “Not as much as I’d like to, mind you, but well enough. Do you think we’d be having this conversation if I wasn’t crazy about you?”_

_Derek huffed. “No, if you weren’t crazy you’d be with someone else,” he muttered, looking at his hands._

_“Maybe, but I’m crazy and you’re the only one I want to ever come home to.” He got up and plopped down in Derek’s lap, cupping his face and forcing the werewolf to look him in the eyes. “If you weren’t crazy you’d be with some supermodel living in the Big City with the beautiful people. So we’re crazy together. I’d pick crazy anytime of the week if it meant getting to see all the things you try so hard to hide. Seeing that bright smile you flash that could blind an angel. Not the fake one, I can’t take or leave that one.”_

_Derek looked up at him and in that moment all his adoration was so visible, Stiles thought he could reach out and touch it. Derek surged forward, catching his lips in a soft kiss. It was chaste but with so full of feeling that it didn’t matter, it didn’t need anything else to make it the most magical kiss Stiles have ever had._

_Derek was smiling that private smile of his when they parted. “Was this your midlife crisis, old man, or will we be having this conversation again in another ten years? 'Cause you already got the Camaro...”_

_Stiles couldn’t help but ruin the moment, it was written into his DNA. Luckily Derek didn’t smack him like usually. Instead he looked at Stiles with a wolfish grin and then pounced._

**“I’ll try not to let you down.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, no future-sex, sorry. Wouldn't want past!Derek to be left out. Also this is how the story will be told, through the main story and future/flashbacks that no one remembers. It's all very timey-whimey, yet perfectly scientific. I assure you.


	4. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plotty plottiness will be coming. And dragons, war and maybe winter, just for posterity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm such a bad person. You know I forgot to mention that by the weekend is flake-code for in a month or so. No, but honestly I've been near deathly sick for almost two weeks and every moment I'm not shivering in bed I've been trying to catch up on my school work. So sorry, but not really sorry, priotities, you know. I'll try to not be away for so long again. And I also want to thank everyone for readin, commenting, kudos-ing and bookmarking. Just so you know, when I said keep the comments nice I only meant, keep it constructive. I'm fine with you telling me what you hate/dislike if you keep it respectful, this is my word-baby. :)
> 
> I also have somewhat good news if you like the future flashes. I've decided, since I've made up a very distinct-origin story?- in the future!verse, that I should write a companion fic alongside this one. It will follow Stiles from 2011 (as far as I can tell the entire series so far takes place in 2011, right? Either way, this fic will make that assumption) in the gap between season 2 and 3 up to the event (The one I can't talk about that caused him to wake up naked in the middle of a forrest). The rest of Season 3 will be sort of AU and from there on it's free reign. It's a lot of work, but I won't prioritise the comp fic over this one so no worries. :) Well, unless there's a higher demand.
> 
> Oh, and I changed the years for the flashes in previous chapters to couple of years later. I made a math error when I decided the age for Stiles... -.-
> 
> This chapter was inspired by and the quotes are from Shelter by The XX

 

 

**Beacon Hills, 2011.**

**“I still want to drown whenever you leave.”**

_Stiles stared at Derek who was right there next to him, sleeping so comfortably Stiles thought he was dreaming. How many times hadn’t he fallen asleep, dosing off into blissful oblivion, only to wake up an hour later, alone and feeling used? But something was different now. Derek had stayed. No matter how many times Stiles had prayed that the stupidly distant man would snuggle up to him and they’d fall asleep, he always left right after. It wasn’t surprising; it was the relationship- or rather a lack thereof one- they had. No feelings, just cold clinical sex. Only it wasn’t cold, it was pretty fucking hot, like volcano-eruption-on-the sunny-side-of-Venus hot. But no matter how passionate or brain-damagingly amazing it was, it always left that lingering emptiness in his core that he couldn’t shake off._

_‘What am I even doing?’ he asked himself for the billionth time since they started sleeping with each other a couple of weeks ago. They never talked about what they were doing and it was now beginning to get to Stiles. He had been fine with it. Well, not fine more like he had accepted his position as a human sex doll for 20 minutes of bliss. It was a small prize to pay to be able to feel wanted, desirable and so fucking alive. And boy, did he feel alive. Also it was a small prize to pay to sleep with the epitome of male perfection._

_It wasn’t the first time he questioned his life decisions and how he got tangled in this messed up fuckery he now called his day-to-day life as he glanced at the sleeping alpha, lying next to him. Like usual Stiles came to the conclusion that he had no idea how he went from running from and be scared shitless of Beacon Hills’ own creepy neighborhood alpha to being pressed up against various vertical surfaces and kissed out of his mind. He knew he didn’t make the first move; it must’ve been Derek that kissed him first which was all kinds of crazy since Stiles knew the only sexual interest Derek showed was for the fairer sex._

_‘So what the hell are you doing?’ It wasn’t a question that Stiles ever wanted an answer to. He knew it already and the answer hurt. Derek did it on a whim because he could. It wasn’t such a stretch since everybody knew that Derek always rushed headlong into things without thinking it through._

_A lazy yawn pulled Stiles out of his inner melancholic reverie. “That’s creepy.”_

_Stiles was startles when he realized that the peacefully sleeping face he had been staring at, deep in thought, was now gazing back at him with tired greyish-green eyes. He huffed a laugh. “Like you are one to talk Mr. I-Climbed-into-teenager’s-window. You know you’re basically the bad boy/stalker that tweens base their weirdo love stories on online. You don’t have a pale glittering leg to stand on, Edward. Or do you prefer Jacob?”_

_Derek scowled for a couple of seconds then it slowly changed to a smirk as he thought of a comeback. “You’d know all about that.”_

_“That was a step above ‘So’s you’re face’. Bravo.” He did a little mock applause because he’s an asshole._

_“Shut up, Stiles.”_

_To Stiles credit he actually did, not because he was told to but because he wanted to know what time it was. Well, not really actually. It was an excuse to busy himself with because the question nagging at his mind was slowly forming on his tongue. And nope, he was not going there so checking his phone and pretend to be deeply engrossed in that was a safe alternative. 1.30, they had been asleep for a couple of hours only._

_Derek just lied next to him, naked, watching him pretending to check his messages. The asshole. “Why are you still here?” There it was, all his insecurities bared in five little words. Stiles cursed his mouth.  ‘Welcome back to Awkward Teen Choice Awards, next category is “Fuck my life”. And the award goes to…’_

_Derek actually looked a bit taken aback. “I-uh… fell asleep.” His scowl was back but he didn’t look at Stiles, he was scowling at his own hands like they had betrayed him. “I’ll leave.”_

_He pulled the covers off, revealing his naked body, and started to get up. “Wait,” Stiles said as he grabbed his wrist. Derek only looked at his hand like some piece of trash that had gotten stuck to him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”_

_Derek narrowed his eyes, finally meeting Stiles’. He huffed. “You’re lying.”_

_‘Damn heart, whose side are you on?’ “Okay, yeah. I want to know why you are here but not in a GTFO kind of way.” He had dug himself into a hole. ‘…The award goes to “Is that a typo? Oh, it’s actually a name? How can anyone pronounce that?” Stilinksi.’_

_He took a deep breath before spewing out the things he had promised himself not to voice for the sake of his own dignity. ‘What dignity?’_

_“You always leave right away so I thought that was our thing which I don't have any problem with, by the way. But then you stayed so is this going to be a thing or was this a one time thing because we never talk about what is our thing so I was just wondering, you know.”_

_Why was he speaking so fast? He had tried to play it off and be casual about it and failed horribly. There was no way Derek wasn’t going to read into it when he had let it slip out in a messy pile of neediness. Well, there was something to read in to but he hadn’t wanted Derek to know that. He had a come up with a plan, damn it, to slowly but steadily ease the idea of developing their **thing** to something more. ‘Mouth, I curse thee.’_

_Derek’s eyes widened, his face was a constipated-looking mix of confusion and incredulousness then it shifted slowly, as realization set in to ‘I really want to disappear’. “Stiles,” he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose._

_That was it. Stiles knew he had fucked it all up and there wasn’t anything he could do to fix it. ‘Here he comes. Here comes John Wayne.’_

_Derek didn’t move, he just sat in the bed with his head in his hand, rubbing his forehead. He was most likely trying to figure out if werewolf could Apparate._

_“I-uh…” he said after an eon long pause, “need to go. It’s late.”_

_Stiles slipped on his easy smile, the one that looked as natural as ever. ‘Fake till you make it.’ “Sure, no problem.”_

_Derek looked at him like he wanted to say something more. Stiles prayed that he would say anything at all but after a beat he just nodded to himself and got up._

_Stiles turned the lights off, he knew Derek could see in the dark, and snuggled down in the bed. He could feel Derek hesitating for just a moment, and then he heard him pull the window open._

_“See you around, Sourwolf,” Stiles said, mentally patting himself on the back for sounding nonchalant._

_Derek didn’t respond but Stiles heard a weary sigh and a creak of leather like he was nodding and then he was gone._

_Stiles had a feeling he wasn’t going to see Derek around anymore._

**“Please, teach me gently how to breathe.”**

 

 

* * *

 

**“And I’ll mirror images back at you…”**

After they had finished eating Peter had all but carried Stiles to the couch in the living room and dumped him there while the rest of the Hales continued on with their day. It shouldn’t be frustrating, he knew he should be thankful, but all he wanted was to do something. He didn’t care what, just something that occupied his time and meant that maybe he wasn’t so useless as he felt, lying on the couch with his broken leg resting on the armrest. Stiles couldn’t really blame them for leaving him there since he didn’t even know what day it was. For all he knew it could be a weekday and they had school and work that they had initially skipped just because of him. Stiles blew out a breath slowly and tried to relax. They told him they would help him, said that they for some reason thought of him as part of their pack and he knew that meant that whatever happened they would be by his side. Why they considered him pack was beyond him, though. But the more frustrated he became with his feelings of uselessness the worse he felt for being impatient and insufferable which made him even more frustrated with himself. It was an evil downward spiral.

 

“You should try to calm down.” Peter’s cool voice came from behind the couch and made Stiles jump. He patted Stiles on the cheek in what could only have been mocking display of reassurance. “You’re upsetting the children.”  He nodded his head towards the doorway to the hall.

 

Stiles huffed but followed his glance and saw the kids that was trying to, not so subtly, peek from behind the doorpost. There were two of them, glancing at him with childlike fascination. They didn’t seem scared of him; just wary like you’d be when an uncle or someone seemed upset. They were trying to give him space yet they wanted to see who he was. Stiles felt even worse now.

 

Peter chuckled and lifted Stiles legs from the armrest and flopped down, letting Stiles legs rest in his lap. “I said calm down, not smell even more miserable.” He turned to hallway door. “Come out and say hello to our new friend.”

 

There was some muffled whispering and then a girl stepped forward, she couldn’t have been more than four or five years old. She walked over to the couch with confidence but Stiles could still see her eyes dart between Peter and him, like she wasn’t sure if she should really be approaching.

 

“It’s all right, he’s nice enough,” Peter said with a smile and patted Stiles’ uninjured leg.

 

She stared at him with her big open eyes brimming with childlike curiosity. “Are you hurt?”

 

“What?” She asked that question with such genuine concern for such a small child that Stiles mind completely blanked. “No, I’m fine.”

 

The little girl puffed her cheeks and turned to Peter. “He’s lying. You said he was nice but nice people don’t lie.”

 

Peter laughed and ruffled her hair, praising her for her ability to spot the lie. “That sounds like something a doofus would say. Did Derek tell you that?" The girl nodded. Peter sighed dramatically. "Sometimes people say things that aren’t true when they don’t want to bother other people. Like when your brother said it didn’t hurt when you tackled him.”

 

“It didn’t hurt.” An almost identical boy-version of the girl peeked from the doorway. His surly pout reminded Stiles of a miniature version of Derek.

 

“Are they your kids?” They didn’t look like Peter per se but they shared the sharp, high cheekbones that Stiles came to realize must be a Hale family feature.

 

Peter looked horrified, or at least tried to look horrified for the sake of drama. “I’m not old enough to have kids! How old do you think I am?”

 

 

“Old enough,” Stiles said and cocked an eyebrow. Was he flirting with Peter, because that might have sounded like he was flirting just a little bit?

 

Peter narrowed his eyes, his lips quirking up in small confident smirk. It definitely came across as flirting. “These little monsters are my niece and nephew.” He waved the boy over. “This is Aurora and her shyer brother Brian.”

 

It was obvious while looking at the two next to each other that they were twins _._ Not because they were identical—which they couldn’t be, his mind supplied as if he needed to clarify the basic of genetics to himself—but because they were exactly the same age.  They had the same dark eyes as their father and Cora but their mother dark hair and sharp features.

 

“Nice theme they have going.” Peter quirked one of his brows in a silent question. “You know, Laura, Cora, and Aurora. It was lucky they weren’t all girls. Would’ve been a shame to break the chain just because you ran out of names.”

 

Peter stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brian who had slipped up next to his sister stuck his tongue out. “Still better names than Stiles,” he said with child’s lisp. He was missing his front teeth.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed with a smile and a wink. “Stiles is a pretty stupid name but what can you do.” He shrugged dramatically.

 

“Momma says you hit your head and can’t remember things,” Aurora said, looking at his head like she couldn’t figure out if that was even possible.

 

“I don’t know,” he said, being careful now to not outright lie to the little werewolf. “I can’t remember.” He laughed sheepishly.

 

Aurora studied him for a moment but then turned to her brother and hugged him close. “Bri slipped on the stairs and hit his head, he couldn’t remember it either. Momma said he got a con- a con—“

 

“A concussion?” She nodded energetically, making her dark locks dance. “It means that your brain got a little scrambled. Forgetting some things and being dizzy is normal when you get a concussion.”

 

“Bri went to the sick people’s house. He’s not a werewolf so Momma said doctors needed to make sure he healed. But you’re not a werewolf either.”

 

The unasked question was obvious. “The doctors can’t help me remember. They have already taken care of my leg making sure everything is all right, now I only need time to rest so I can heal.”

 

Peter swatted playfully at the kids. “You heard Stiles. No, be good and let him rest.”

 

They scampered off giggling and asking if Stiles wanted to play with them later. Well, Aurora did, while Brian gave him a suspicious look and followed his sister. He promised her that he would.

 

 “So,” Peter drawled, turning to Stiles with hungry eyes. “I assume you can’t tell me how you got the scars either.”

 

That was news to Stiles. “Scars? What scars?”

 

Peter feigned surprise, in his very over the top manner. “Oh, I thought my sister told you.” He didn’t since he had been present the entire time they had been in the same room. “The reason we thought you were a hunter is because of the scars on your side and across your back. Five very distinct almost parallel scars, namely.”

 

Stiles drew in a breath of surprise and pulled his shirt all the way up to his armpits searching for any hint of a scar. His eyes narrowed in on his right side almost immediately. There on his body were five pale, wide lines, they went about a couple of inches from his nipple diagonally and continued towards his back. He twisted around, not even caring about the pain that flared up in his injured ankle. The lines stopped in the middle of his back a bit over his butt. “What the hell?”

 

Peter smiled. “Seems to me you might have had an altercation of some sort.” He traced the lines with his fingers; there was one for each. Stiles felt sick. “You can see how we thought that you might have been a hunter when you all of sudden knew things about us.”

 

“Do- do you still?” He hated how his voice quivered and how tiny it was.

 

Peter laughed as if he was oblivious to how uncomfortable he was making Stiles. Or more likely, he didn’t care. “Now if we did, why would we help you?”

 

It wasn’t answer, really, it was a deflection.

 

Peter was still tracing the claw marks, following them up towards Stiles chest. He eased Stiles back so he was once again lying on his back. The hand that was still on his chest finally stopped right over his nipple. Stiles sucked in a breath of surprise when the veins on his hand darkened and began pulsing. He slowly became aware that his ankle didn’t hurt anymore. Peter stared at him intensely, his eyes slowly stared to glow an electric blue.

 The room slipped away and then he was somewhere else.

 

_“Don’t,” he says, trying to slap away the hand at his chest._

_The man just snarls, fixing him with his death glare. “Stiles, I can’t. I hate seeing you in pain.”_

_He pulls at the impossibly large forearm still clinging to his chest, leeching away the pain. “And I hate seeing you in pain. So, don’t. Try. To. Take. On. Mine."_

_The man grumbles but stops and then slumps down on the bed next to him. “It only hurts for a moment, but you’re in pain all the time until you heal.”_

_Stiles flicks him on the nose. “Yes, but I’m in pain because of some asshole, or because I’m a klutz, you’re in pain because of me and I don’t want that.”_

_The man growls but slipps a hand over his chest, pulling him in closer and resting his head on Stiles shoulder. “I don’t mind a little pain.”_

_Stiles smirked. “Oh, really? I'll keep that in mind next time.”_

_The man grumbles something incoherently but he was smiling, nipping and nibbling affectionately on Stiles’ earlobe._

Peter was still staring at him with glowing eyes, his nostril was flared, but he was smiling a somewhat genuine smile for once. “Are you okay? I know my hands can be a little intense but I never knew it could render someone completely nonfunctional.”

 

Stiles blinked dumbly he looked down and noticed that Peter must have pulled his shirt down while he—stroked off there or whatever the hell that was. “I must’ve zoned out for there for a minute.” Peter waggled his eyebrows like it was the best thing he heard. “Thanks.” Now he was outright grinning. “For the pain-sucking thing.”

 

“If you need more sucking all you have to do is ask.” With that creepy and/or smooth line he gently lifted Stiles’ legs and got up from the couch, taking great care to place them back softly again.

 

 Stiles was left on the couch with the weirdest boner he had ever had—since this morning for all he knew. The thing he wasn’t so sure of was if it was because of Peter or because of the man nibbling his earlobe.

 

**“…so you can see the way I feel it too.”**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the complete of lack of past!Derek this chapter. Don't worry, the tag for Sterek doesn't only apply to the future!verse. More will come. I find the build up makes the peak all the more satisfying. That was my creepy Peter-line for the day.
> 
> Also, I have a love/hate relationship with Peter. My boyfriend always jokes around and say that I usually have crap taste in men since I love all the psychopathic killers I come across (on Tv, my real life isn't that eventful). And seeing as I love Crowley in Supernatural, Hannibal in the tv series, J.D in Heathers, and Ritchie in From Dusk Till Dawn I tend to agree. Peter is no exception. I also might think that Deucalion is a tiny bit sexy, but that's 60% because of his accent. Who am I trying to kid...
> 
> But yeah, I've already said that end game is Sterek, just on the way there I just may or may not take a slight turn to admire the view that is Steter.


	5. Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud loom on the horizon and also, past!Derek seems to try to impress someone..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I don't mean to lie. It just happens accidentally on purpose. Honestly, I've been swamped, with school work so I had a hard time getting into the mood to just sit down to write. So rather than typing out some half-hearted drivel I needed to wait to get back into the swing of things. Apologies for the wait. I also updated some previous in inconstancies in previous chapters, nothing major that warrants a re-reading. Tell me if you notice anything else. Oh, and Iv'e decided to write the memory-flood in present tense. Sort of like Thane's drell-memory-thing, if you've played Mass Effect 2, mostly because I think it sounds better but also maybe because I imagine Thane narrating and it makes me smile. :)
> 
> School's on a break for awhile so hopefully I'll have a new chapter up soon too. But I begin summer classes in about a week or so because I'm a sucker for punishment.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter was inspired by and the quotes are from one version, of the many that exist, of the song Starlight by Marina & the Diamonds. Mostly because it's my favourite simile for love.
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you think, like, or hate. This is a WIP after all. :)

**“Love is like starlight. Even when a star dies…”**

“Fuck,” Stiles hissed as he tried to suck on the tiny little cut on his finger.

He scrubbed his face with the back of his left hand, trying and failing to once again wrap his mind around what had happened. He winced when he realized belatedly that he still had managed to rub dirty dishwater across his face. He cursed again and threw the knife that he had cut himself on back into the sink.  
  
It had been three days since Talia had returned from the Sheriff Department. He had tried not to get his hopes up, really, he had. But it had been impossible not to feel a pang of pain and disappointment when she had told him that the Sheriff hadn’t received any new missing persons reports in the last couple of weeks. The town wasn’t that big, she had told him, so if had gone missing from the town somebody was bound to have realized it. Stiles hadn’t known what was worse, the possibility that he was a recluse with no family or friends or that he had disappeared from somewhere else and somehow ended up in a small town in California. He had reluctantly come to the most probable conclusion that he didn’t belong there.  
  
So when Talia and Alden took him out for a drive that morning, figuring that there weren’t anyone around who’d be able to recognize him, he had jumped at the idea. Being cooped up in their big manor for three days had him climbing the walls and brimming with nervous tension and considering how tense and careful the Hales had been around him they could definitely tell. The thing that hit him when they drove around, telling him about various things about the town was that he already knew them all. He knew the forest where he had gotten lost was the Preserve, even if he hadn’t realized it at the time. He told them the big building they pointed out to him was Beacon Hills High School before they even had time tell him. Talia had turned around to watch him with narrowed eyes and a thoughtful expression on angular face. He had tried to tell her that it wasn’t that hard of a guess, seeing as the parking lot was full of kids, but he realized mid-sentence that they never once had mention the town’s name.

 

The drive had been a ruse, one that he had obviously fallen for. But before he could muster up some indignant retort Talia had returned her attention back to the road ahead. They finished their little drive around Beacon Hills in silence.  Stiles had tried to just enjoy watching the buildings pass by as Alden drove back to the house as slow as possible but it wasn’t possible.

 

They had eaten lunch not even once mentioning what had happened during drive. In fact both Talia and Alden acted like it hadn’t happened and Stiles didn’t know if it was a bad thing or not. Just because he knew things about the town didn’t mean that he was from it. He could’ve been new to the town, having picked up on things after visiting. Maybe he came alone to hike in the Preserve. But as soon as he had though that he knew that it couldn’t be true. No one would come vacationing alone to a small town like Beacon Hills, at least not if they weren’t visiting relatives or friends. There was no tourist attraction in the town and he knew there were better woods in California if he wanted to hike. No, the only reason one would come alone without anyone from the town knowing was for one specific reason and it certainly wasn’t to admire the wildlife in the Preserve.

 

He took a shuddering breath, trying to regain his focus on doing the dishes. Talia had ordered him to them when Dr. Deaton stepped into the dining room. They had gone into Alden study and he just knew they were discussing him.

 

He absentmindedly swiped his tongue over the cut, wiping away the little drop of blood that had once again formed on his finger.

 

_There’s a tangy metallic taste in his mouth when he wakes, sleep-fogged. He realizes with a groan that it’s the taste of his own blood. When his eyes finally focus he’s met with two bright eyes, staring at him with a heavy frown under bushy eyebrows._

_“You okay?”_

_Stiles huffs. “Yes, just peachy. Am I bleeding or am I just about to have heart attack? I taste blood.”_

_The man has the audacity to smirk at him. Stiles thinks he should be angry but he can’t help the fond smile he returns. “I think you just bit your cheek. You weren’t even hit that hard.”_

_At least this time he actually tries to look indignant. “Not all of us are made solely of muscles.”_

_“It was one punch, Stiles. From a **human.**  Swore you’d wake up with amnesia, Skipper.” He says it with a little heat but a playful smile has replaced his smirk when holds out a hand to help him up._

_Stiles has to laugh at that which is a mistake because his head immediately begins reeling. “See, now I know why you never get my references. Didn’t know you were in your sixties, dude. Explains the car.” Stiles grabs the outstretched hand gingerly and gets hauled up way to fast for his liking. He wasn’t really in any hurry to get up from his strangely comfortable position on the concrete. He wants to sleep, for an eon or two at least._

“You okay?”

 

Stiles let out a very manly—yes, he’s allowed to delude himself—shriek.

 

“Seriously, dude.” he hissed when he stumbled to turn, awkwardly, with his cast and crutches only to find Derek staring at him with a familiar frown. His expression is so similar to the man in the memories that trickles in that it tugs at his heart. Stiles pushed the feeling of longing away and chastised himself for missing someone he doesn’t even know. “Human. Not werewolf. The least you could do is making your presence known if you’re trying to sneak up on me.”

 

Derek gave him his shit-eating grin. The one he had started giving him whenever Stiles said something stupid. “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of sneaking?”

 

Stiles huffed. “Bite me, Hale.” It had come to be his usual retort whenever Derek said something he couldn’t refute, which wasn’t in, his defense, very often. It had hit him the day before how similar it was to Derek’s standard “Shut up, Stiles” but he had decided to deny that if anyone brought it up.

"Shouldn't you be in school anyways?"

Derek shook his head with a slight frown. "Mom called us home. Is there something going on?"

Stiles shrugged and turned back to the sink and continued washing the dishes. He stopped when he felt Derek’s breath on the side of neck and face. He shuddered. They’ve had this conversation at least a dozen times since the first day he started living with the Hales. It had surprised him when Derek had started coming up to him, so close they were basically breathing each other’s breaths and that was pretty disgusting and, not to mention, not very practical—one of them was bound to pass out of oxygen deprivation at some point if that continued. Talia had vaguely implied that Derek had reacted badly to him only because his instincts had gotten confused which, of course, made sense and didn’t sound like some Jedi “There’s an unbalance in the Force” line at all. After spending half a day agonizing over what the hell she meant he decided that he probably had committed some kind of werewolf faux pas. Seeing that Derek now acted like everyone else it couldn’t have been something truly bad so he it was probably best to let it go. But he did however think it was rude and not very helpful that none of them saw fit to brush him up on werewolf etiquette. Sometimes Stiles entertained the thought that all people who was part of the preternatural world got off on being as vague and obtuse as possible. It wasn’t like he needed to know these things so to not get mauled by a less sympathetic werewolf if he ever “forgets himself”.  Stiles had actually chuckled out loud at that joke in the middle of a meal when Cora talked about a boy in her school that got bullied by some Jackson Whittemore kid. There was really no way of saving himself from the confused and slightly appalled looks he got from the Hales and he took them with sheepish and apologetic smile.

   
“Personal space,” he said, exasperated not even bothering this time to turn around. “Seriously, man. Y u do dis?”

 

Derek only leaned in closer over his shoulder, studying/sniffing him obviously with a concerned look on his face. “Are you having a stroke?”

 

Stiles tried to shove his face away which was harder than it should be considering that he’d got at least 5 or so years on the teen—he had come to the conclusion after studying himself in the mirror that he must be somewhere in his early twenties and none of the Hales seemed to disagree when they let him have a beer after dinner. Well in his defense, said teen was a werewolf and stubbornly refused to remove his head.

 

“What is this, the land before time? How can you be a teenager and not know the things you don’t know?” The damn shit-eating grin was back. “Forget I asked. Please go on Tumblr or 9gag and educate yourself. Don't you care about what the other kid will think about you? They’re gonna laugh at you. They're all gonna laugh at you.”

 

“What’s Tumblr?”

 

Instead of dignifying that with an answer—because, what the fuck?—Stiles went back to washing the dishes. If Derek wanted to be that out of sync with youth culture it was his own prerogative.

 

“So, the blood?” He did sound like he was genuinely concerned so Stiles figured that he should at least tell him to get him off his back.

 

He waved his finger in front of his face. “Jeez, it’s just a little cut. Shouldn’t you be able to tell?”

 

“I’m not very good at smelling things yet,” he confessed with a faint blush on his cheeks and let his head sag down on Stiles’ shoulder, which was conveniently at the perfect height. “It’s harder than it looks.”

 

“Uh huh,” he said and as he unplugged the sink, letting the dishwater drain. “So, are you going to literally get off my back any time soon because in case you hadn’t noticed I kind of broke my leg and you’re awfully heavy for someone so scrawny.”

 

 Derek snorted right in his ear but at least he took the hint. “I’m not scrawny.”

 

Stiles patted him on his cheek before awkwardly shuffling to the living room. One would assume that after a couple of days walking with crutches one would get the hang of it. Not Stiles, though. “Sure, you’re not. We all have our delusions,” he said, knowing that the werewolf was right behind him.

                                                                                                    
“I’m serious,” Derek said, sounding even more defensive than usual. Stiles should probably ease off on the teasing but every time he’s about to Derek made it impossible to resist by getting all bothered. Besides he never seemed to take Stiles too seriously. “I’m not scrawny. In fact, I’m the prime example of what a 16 year old man should look like.” He actually stood up a little straighter and assumed the “hero pose”.

 

Stiles snorted as he lowered himself gently down on the couch next to Peter who’s reading a weathered-looking book. He turned the TV on, feigning disinterest. “A sixteen year old man, isn’t that an oxymoron?”

 

Derek scowled. “Shut up, Stiles.”

 

“It’s not an oxymoron,” Peter said, not even bothering to look up from his book. “But it is a contradiction depending on where you live and what definition of the man you use.”

 

Stiles knew the shit-eating grin was back without even bothering to look away from the TV.

 

He did however see Peter looking up at Derek with a mischievous glint in his eyes out of the corner of his eye. “You should at least be proud of yourself that you got that it was an insult. Looking at your English grades I’d figure that words longer than two syllables would confuse you. Oh, sorry there I go using a grown-up word. Do you now what syllables mean?" Stiles couldn't help but snort a laugh because he's an asshole. "By the way, shouldn’t you be bathing your nephew?”

 

Derek stalked out of the room with a growl.

 

“We say these things with love so that when other people do it you’re prepared,” Stiles called out after him. "And remember, they're all gonna laugh at you!"

 

“He makes it too easy,” Peter mused with his attention back to the book his reading. “Like a puppy.”

 

 

“Wait a second,” Stiles said snapping his attention back to Peter. “What nephew? I thought you said you didn’t have any kids.”

 

Peter looked amused. “I’m touched that you actually pay attention to what I say. I know my voice can be very distracting.” He paused to waggle his eyebrows suggestively because of course it was too much to hope for that Peter forgot all about the time he zoned out because of a memory while Peter was talking. He still hadn't told anyone about the memories. He didn't know why. “Like I said, I’m too young to have kids. You met them already, by the way. The twins.”

 

Stiles frowned in confusion. “Yeah, but I thought they were Talia’s. Brian looks like a even-more-pint size version of Derek and Aurora looks just like Talia. And didn't Aurora say she spoke to her "Momma" about me because I distinctly remember it because it sounds so cute.”

 

“Oh, I forget you haven’t met my other sister, Angela, yet. She away on a business trip. The wonders of technology allows people to speak to each other nowadays even when they're not face to face.”

 

Stiles groaned, just how many Hales were there? “So what, I'm the Hales' new favorite gossip topic?" Peter nodded with a smirk. "And let me guess, she and Talia are twins.”

 

Peter laughed. “It’s a werewolf thing. Big litters.”

 

“Is the dog jokes thing like the n-word?” Stiles genuinely wanted to know this because he had made a few only to receive the glare of death. It was one of the Hale family’s standard settings. “Like your allowed to make one but I’m not because I’m not a werewolf.”

 

The entire house roared with laughter from anyone who heard him.

 

 

**“…You can still see it shine but it’s only old light.”**

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Beacon Hills, 2011.**

**If love enters your life, it leaves a stain inside your sky.”**

_“I’m sorry.”_

_Stiles knew he should just ignore him until he leaves, like he did the last time he tried to talk to him but he couldn’t easily do it this time since he had forgotten reapplying the mountain ash line after he had let Scott in through his window._

_“Oh, okay then it’s all right. I was just waiting to hear you say that and now everything is going to go back to usual.” It was too sarcastic for his taste; he was usual way more subtle with his snark but he was too riled up to give Derek his A-game._

_Derek actually looked like he had made a huge mistake. Not as regretful as he should look but he had at least let **some** feelings slip through his mask of indifference. “I know it doesn’t make any difference.”_

_Stiles crossed his arms and stared him down, waiting for him to continue but he didn’t. “Is that all? Sorry for trying to kill you and turning your friend over to the dark side and then you’ll be on your merry way.”_

_Derek eyes flashed red and he let out a frustrated growl. “Don’t put word in my mouth.”_

_That was rich. “So by all means, go ahead and use your own. Tell me what you came here to do. What you expect to come out of this because you can’t obviously think that you can say anything that will make any sort of difference. So please tell me why you’re even here. Unless you just want to rub it in my face. Is that it? You got your damn pack, to hell with anyone else. You even got two of the people who help kill Boyd. Or maybe I should say helped you kill Boyd. That would be more fitting now, don’t you—“_

_Derek had him by the throat and slammed into the wall so fast he hadn’t even felt his feet lift from the ground until he was choking. “Do you think this is what I wanted? Everyone is dead! Erica, Boyd, you think I didn’t give a shit about them either.”_

_His hand clutched Stiles throat so hard that Stiles honestly thought he was going to die. Derek hadn’t done anything to dissuade that thought lately; in fact he had done the exact opposite._

_“You think I just do whatever I want, fuck them all?” He punctuated that by slamming Stiles into the wall again, making Stiles vision go black for a second._

_It said something about how completely unhinged Derek must've been that he hadn’t heard the Sheriff come in to Stiles bedroom until he had his gun levelled to his head. Or maybe it just said something about Stiles ability to infuriate the Alpha._  
  
“You’ll let go of my son right now or I swear to God I’ll paint the walls with your brains. Dead is dead, right? I don’t think even werewolf can heal from it.” He stood by the door with the cold expression of someone who could kill without a second thought. It scared Stiles to see it on his own father’s face even though he had never been more thankful for having his father walk in without knocking.

_Derek snapped his attention to the Sheriff and roared but did as he said. As soon as Stiles crumbled to the floor, gasping for air, he must’ve snapped out of whatever blood rage made him lose control because he stared at his own hands like he almost couldn’t believe what he had done, or was about to do. He reached down to help Stiles up. “I’m sorry, it’s the full—“_

_“Get the fuck out of my house, Hale!”_

_Derek practically jumped to the open window. Stiles would laugh at how scared he had looked if he wasn't struggling to breathe. Derek turned and gave him one last mournful look before slipping out._

_The Sheriff walked over to the window, still holding his gun in full defensive-mode like he didn’t trust that Derek wouldn’t jump out and finish what he started. With good reason, Stiles thought._

_“And Hale,” he said looking out the window, in a normal conversational volume. “I’m dragging Stiles away from this damn town as soon as school finish. I’ll be damned if he ever gets tangled up in your shit ever again. But until then, if I see you sniffing around my son I will shoot first and ask questions later. And I’ll aim for the head.”_

_Stiles and never been so terrified and proud of his father. He was going to miss him but he agreed that he needed to get out of Beacon Hills. He also understood why his father couldn’t just up and leave knowing what he knew was out there. It was that sense of honor and bravery that he both admired and envied almost to the point of resentment. But his father was right, he needed to be a normal teenager and running around with werewolves was going to get him killed. Had almost gotten him killed. It was just a matter of time until he joined Erica, Boyd, Heather and all other people who had died because of werewolves and other things._

_Scott had tried to plead with him to stay, to tell him that nothing had to change even though he was part of Derek’s pack. They both knew it was lies because it changed everything. It was as much of betrayal as anything and they both knew it. Scott chose Derek even though he knew that it would cause him his best friend. He chose him over Stiles and no amount of denial and rationalization would make that hurt any less. Derek got what he wanted, damn the consequences. Maybe that wasn’t fair. Derek took what he wanted and then when the consequences of his rash actions presented themself he would brood about them and then continue doing the same damn thing all over again. Because as long as you felt bad about it, you’re still a good person, right?_

_Stiles was done agonizing over Derek Hale, he had made his choices and fucked everyone who stood in his way over. Stiles included, literally. Many times, in many positions._

_He was done._  
  
Derek Hale could go fuck himself for once.

**“This will lead you to believe that it is still alive.”  
**

 

 

 

* * *

**  
**

 

 

**  
“But it is just old light, completing its last flight.”**

Talia, Alden and Deaton sauntered out of the study at dinnertime. Stiles couldn’t help but think the way they walked into the living room, in line, was like a firing squad. He was awaiting his verdict. Friend or foe.

 

“Peter could you fire up the grill? We’re having a barbecue,” Talia said and clapped her hands together, her eyes shined with childish glee.

 

 _A last meal_ , he thought.

 

Peter got up from the couch and slipped out on the veranda. Stiles realized that he was alone in the room with people who had just discussed whether he is a werewolf hunter or not. It seemed like they were forgoing the last meal part, unless he was supposed to be said meal. He gulped unconsciously and noticed how the two werewolves tracked the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed with their eyes.

 

“Stiles, how good are you at salad making?” Alden asked with a brilliant smile, like Stiles couldn’t tell that there wasn’t any sincerity behind it.

 

“Uh, still an amnesiac,” he said mostly because he was too scared to say anything else.

 

“Yes, of course,” Alden said and chuckled sheepishly. “How can I forget.” There was no inflection in the end and no surprise at himself for saying something stupid, like he didn’t believe Stiles were telling the truth. “Do you think you could help me make a salad? If you have any problem you can just ask for help.”

 

Stiles tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. He was so dead. “Yes, I think I can manage.” He got up from the couch and stumbled after Alden into the kitchen.

 

He knew there was no way in hell he could avoid death. Even if he could somehow make it out of the house without almost an entire family of werewolves noticing it, he still couldn’t run with a broken ankle. He was going to die without even knowing who he was. The thought of that made him angry. Even if he was a hunter, he had no memories of what he done. He liked the Hales. Even if he regained them he didn’t think he would do anything to hurt them. Well, probably now, since they were going to kill him.

 

He made the salad in morbid silence, feeling a therapeutic calm settling on him as he chopped some spring onions.

 

“You’re good with a knife.” Alden said, poking his head over Stiles’ shoulder as if he was observing his progress.

 

Stiles tried to cling to the calm; it was a struggle to say the least. “Maybe I was a good cook or something.”

 

Alden retreats back to cutting the meat but not before letting out a breath on Stiles exposed neck. Stiles could apparently recognize a threat when he was given one. That said something about him at least. “Or something,” Alden said, still smiling as he cut a huge hunk of meat.

 

When the salad was done Derek came into the kitchen and grabbed the bowl and scampered out as quickly as possible. Stiles couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt and disappointment when he noticed how the teen avoided his eyes. It shouldn’t surprise him, really. Of course, Derek wouldn’t disobey something that his Alpha had told him for Stiles but he still hoped that he would’ve done it with reluctance. Derek hadn’t even hesitated. Hadn’t worn his mulish, petulant expression he did when they first met and he was ordered to help Stiles out of bed.

 

Stiles looked at the knife he had used to cut the salad, still in his hand. He put it down reluctantly.

 

_He holds up the knife. It’s the only thing apparent that he got to defend himself. He lets his heartbeat skyrocket, giving his nervous skittishness full reign. He hopes that it mimics genuine fear enough so that the Omega doesn’t doubt that he’s just a helpless little human wandering the woods. It’s a good ruse; one that he had practiced enough times that he could do it on command on a moments notice. But a part of him is still always scared that it wasn’t going to work. Maybe it’s the reason why it always worked, because he’s a little scared but never of the werewolf slowly advancing on him._

_The werewolf charges. Stiles smirks._

“Are you coming?” Alden repeated with a confused smile on his face.

 

Stiles scrubbed his face with his hands. _Lets get this over with_ , he thought as he stumbled after Alden out on the patio. Talia gestured him to sit down on a chair between her and Deaton. Stiles noticed how that makes him the furthest from the smaller children and how that surrounded him with all the most capable werewolves. 

 

_“You take one more step closer and I swear to God I will shoot you.” He holds the gun aiming for the looming Alpha’s head. “You can smell the wolvesbane, right? I’ve been practicing shooting since I was a kid. You think I’ll miss a big fat werewolf standing a couple of feet away.”_

His heart fell, he was hunter. There was absolutely no doubt about it now. He tried to hide how he startled out of the memory but he failed hard. They were all staring at him similar confused expressions on their face and this time he couldn’t find it in him to pretend. He prayed for anything for anyone who could answer prayers to help him, he wasn’t picky. God, Shiva, Yahweh, Allah, Artemis, Satan, if anyone of them could save him he wouldn’t turn them down. Who needs a soul anyway? He felt too empty inside. So cold.

 

Talia opened her mouth to say something, watching him with something that almost looked like pity. But before she could say anything it started to rain. Not with some few drops or a warning drizzle. No, it was like the sky that had been clear all day had grown dark without Stiles even noticing and just let all the water come rushing down, like it came from a hose.

 

The Hales all rushed out of their seats, before he even had time to react, shouting to grab the food of the table.

 

Someone, probably Deaton, grabbed his shoulders and hauled him out of his seat, thrusting his crutches at him. He realized that someone had just answered his prayers because there was nothing natural about the rain. It came down with such a force that it completely decimated the parasol that had been raised to shield the children from the sun. He also realized that he was dry, not relatively to the Hales that were rushing around trying to salvage the dinner, but completely. He wasn’t even a little damp.

 

The Hales didn’t even notice when he hobbled off the patio. He knew he wouldn’t get far on foot, which only left one alternative. He went straight for the SUV parked next to the house. It wasn’t locked, thankfully, but it was probably too much to hope that they left the keys in the car. He searched quickly around the usual places but came up with zilch. He wiped some rain drops that ran down his cheeks.

“Come on,” he snapped, slapping the wheel with both of his fist. The car honked unhelpfully. “Don’t hold out on me now.” He realized that the wetness on his cheeks were his own tears. He was desperate. “Fuck, fuck. Please. Just start. Start.”

 

There was surged of electricity, like a static shock but not painful but pleasant, warm and familiar, and then the car was suddenly running.

 

Stiles didn’t even take the time to mentally thank whatever God had helped. He shifted the car into drive and sped away from the Hale house as quickly as he could, like a bat out of hell. As he shot out of the property the rain stopped and he heard the howls of seven werewolves. 

 

**“Across the velvet sky. Stars burn bright till they die.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bat out of hell" is one of my favorite phrases. I lol'd when I wrote it, imagining Stiles driving like Cruella in One Hundred and One Dalmations. That's usually how I imagine people driving regardless, though. Needless to say, I don't have a licence.


	6. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, once again for the wait. It took me longer than i had assumed to polish this chapter up. Hope it was worth the wait though because I think I re-wrote about a gazillion times, haha.
> 
> I'm not an american so sorry if my geography or researching skills are ghastly, I really tried I swear. And if I offend any native americans, it's not my intention. I didn't want to invent a fictional town. But I can rewrite it if it's too much. 
> 
> This chapter was inspired by and the quotes are from Rootless by Marina and the Diamonds. Yes, I love Marina. Deal with it.

 

 

**Beacon Hills, 2013.**

**“Running with my roots pulled up.”**

_To say that Stiles life and gotten simpler since moving to his aunt in Crescent City were the understatement of the century. Well, maybe not the century but “shit got easy” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. He went to Del Norte High School, they didn’t have a lacrosse team but he had joined the cross-country team and was surprisingly good at it. Maybe the year of living in constant fear of getting murdered by the supernatural flavor of the month had some benefits after all. It was after two months, having fallen into a tentative laxness, that he had his first encounter with the preternatural world again. He was out running in the woods when he saw something even he would say was odd. If he didn’t know the things he did he might’ve just continued with some lazy curiosity at the most. But now that he knew it was obvious that the group of people dancing was performing some kind of ritual._

_That was how he met Joseph. He had tackled him to the ground when he had tried to sneak closer to peek through the bushes. He was fierce and Stiles was immediately aware of how completely stunning he was. It didn’t help how he was straddling Stiles hips and snarling in his face. Stiles would be lying if he didn’t say that he found the whole wolf-face a little attractive. It was because of the look it was more because of the danger behind it that aroused him in away that embarrassed even him._

_Joseph had growled and asked him why he smelt of other werewolves but Stiles could only look at his chiseled jaw, his long dark lashes, perfect full lips and hipster haircut that made him look like he belonged in Grease._

_He completely forgot where he was until he heard a woman call out. She startled him by calling out his name, his real name, and asked him to join them. The werewolf shifted back and hopped up. He even had decency to hold out a hand to Stiles to help him up. He had once again gotten tangled into werewolf stuff but something about the pack seemed so different Stiles was strangely not wary of them._

_The woman, Martha, who he learned was their shaman, what he gathered was what they called their emissary, introduced him to the pack. Afterwards she took him under her wing, taught him about their heritage, about the history of the lands and its many secrets. He didn’t know why she did but he was too afraid to ask because for the first time in his life Stiles felt like he might actually belong somewhere, even if he really didn’t. He wasn’t part of their people but they treated him like he was. She taught him some of their traditions and he soaked him up greedily, desperate for her approval. She would tsk him and tell him that he shouldn’t doubt his worth but it mostly seemed like empty praise to Stiles. It wasn’t until after six months of her tutoring that he stopped listening to that voice in the back of his head that told him he wasn’t good enough, the voice that sounded awfully like a certain growly alpha. When Martha showed him the power that was just beyond his fingertips, all the potential, if he just bothered to reach for it he broke down and cried. Cried for everyone that died, for every time that he felt worthless and finally for the stunning beauty of the world she opened him up to. It was a mix of sorrow, pain and happiness. Like a dark veil, he didn’t even know existed, had been lifted from his eyes and, although cliché, he could see clearly for the first time. He both mourned its loss and reveled in the clarity it left in its wake. She hugged him tightly and called it his birth. Pain and beauty mixed_ _together like the burst of buds in springtime._

_His life seemed so simple. Joseph had tackled him to the ground one night when he stumbled through the woods during a full moon run. He had sputtered some curses at him but Joseph and just waved his anger away with a laugh and said that he thought Stiles liked it because he smelled so turned on the first time. Then he had kissed him softly and whispered all the beautiful nothings he so desperately craved as he nuzzled his neck. Just like that he got himself a werewolf boyfriend who might as well worship the ground he walked on. He was really happy._

_But he should have known things were too good to be true. He had let himself get comfortable, hopeful that he could escape it all, even though Martha warned him that no one could abandon their past. Stiles should have prepared for the day it finally caught up to him but he blissful naïveté seemed like a better option. That was why Stiles found himself flabbergasted when he went to throw his bag behind his door after just coming home from training with Martha and finding Derek standing there. He must’ve jumped at least a foot off the ground. It was just like old times. Stiles was livid._

_  
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He held up his bag in front of him like a shield._

_Derek took a step forward but stopped as soon as he realized just how scared Stiles was. “Stiles—“_

_Stiles threw his bag at him, but considering his werewolf reflexes it shouldn’t have come as much of a shock that he caught it with ease. Didn’t mean Stiles couldn’t be mad about it though. “Don’t ‘Stiles’ me. What are you doing here?”_

_Derek hesitated. “I need your help.”_

_“Fuck you.” Stiles made himself calm down through the meditation techniques Martha had taught him. He spun around and sat down at his desk, opening his laptop. He could feel Derek just behind him, it made him uncomfortable but he refused to show it._

_“Aiden and Ethan are missing.”_

_Stiles snorted. “I don’t see how that is a bad thing. Or any of my business.”_

_Derek spun Stiles chair around so fast Stiles thought he might vomit. He had the decency to look a little remorseful. “I talked to Deaton. I know that you’ve been training—“_

_Stiles huffed a twisted little laugh. “Oh, I see how it is. The human picks up some tricks and suddenly he’s useful again. Which brings me back to, fuck you.”_

_Derek growled, his eyes flashing red. “They could be dead, or dying! You’re the only one who can help find them. And you’re not going to just because of me?”_

_Stiles narrowed his eyes and pushed off the chair, sending it crashing down. “Oh, the “fuck you” wasn’t me refusing to help. I’m going to help you find them, not because you asked me to but because unlike you I don’t use my dick as a moral compass.”_

_He expected Derek to lash out at him, threaten him, throw him against a wall or something just like he used to but he didn’t. He just looked stricken, like all the mistakes he had ever done flashed before his eyes. It was daunting, staring at someone you’ve known and realizing that you don’t recognize them anymore. The old Derek, the one he knew a year ago would have at least punched him in the face. Stiles tried not to feel bad, Derek deserved to be reminded just how badly he had fucked everything up. But maybe the Derek who could take remorse and guilt without immediately turning to anger was worth helping. But it was a very slim maybe. An ice cube had a far better chance in hell._

_Derek visibly relaxed and turned his gaze up, not quite meeting Stiles eyes. “So you’ll come back?”_

_Was that hope he saw in the werewolf’s eyes? He crossed his arms, rejecting the swell he felt in his chest. “To help you find your little pet murderers. Then I’m gone.”_

_Derek nodded, obliviously trying to school his expression back to his usual neutralness. “Yeah, of course. I’ll drive you back once we’re done. Shouldn’t take too long. Pick you up in the morning, it’s easier if I explain on the way.” He turned towards the window._

_“I don’t want to see him.”_

_Derek stopped halfway out the window but didn’t turn around. “He misses you.”_

_“I know and I miss him too. It still doesn’t change anything.”_

_He turned around and gave Stiles an undecipherable look. “I’ll see what I can do,” Derek said and slinked out the window into the night._

_Stiles smiled as he closed the window. He grabbed his phone and called his dad. He thought he had handled that as mature as possible. Martha would be proud of him._

**“Caught me cold so they could cut what there was left of love.”**

 

 

* * *

 

 

**“Dragging my roots through the snow. No home sweet and no sweet home.”**

It didn’t really come to a surprise that he was stopped by patrol car. He was thundering down the street like a maniac but it he still decided he could feel pissy about it. He was the victim after all, not that he could tell the man who was slowly walking towards his stolen getaway car that.

 

The man tapped his window and he rolled it down, stifling a sigh. “Good day to you,” he said trying to not sound condescending.

 

“Uh-huh,” the man said, looking at him with laser eyes that said ‘I don’t tolerate your fuckery’. “I would ask you for license and registration but since I know for a fact that this is Talia’s car how about we skip to the part of you telling me why you’re driving like a lunatic away from her house. Or you could just step out of the car and follow me down to the precinct, whichever you prefer.”

 

At least he could pick his poison and when the choice was cyanide or week old milk, it wasn’t that hard. “I stole it,” he said, holding his hands up. “I’ll think I might need your help getting out though.” Maybe this way, he could avoid death and find out who he was or at least stall.

 

That was how he ended up in a holding cell in Beacon Hills Sheriff Department. Apparently it was the Sheriff, who was one of Talia’s friends that had stopped him, which was just his luck. He had tried to answer their questions as much as possible and slow the process at the same time.

 

It proved useless though; he hadn’t counted on how influential Talia was. He jumped when the door flew open with a bang. “Do you have any idea of how much trouble you’ve caused?” Talia all but roared when she stormed into his view, clearly trying to reign in her rage.

 

 _Uh-oh._ “A lot?” He plastered on his fake smile.

 

She stopped right in front of him and growled silently. “You can’t be in here. You shouldn't have left the house!”

 

Stiles laughed. “Sorry to make it harder for you to kill me. But I think I’ll stay here for a while. The ambience is kind of nice.”

 

“What?” Between a blink of en eye the anger and tension rolling off her was switched to incredulous confusion. “What are you talking about?”

 

Stiles wouldn’t have said something snappy and witty but he was taken aback by how sincere she seemed. He didn’t think that she could be that good of an actress. Could he have misinterpreted their actions? “You know what I am…?”

 

She sighed. “Yes, Stiles. We figured it out.”

 

“So you weren’t going to kill me? Because that would be the logical thing to do.”

 

Talia smiled. “Then I’m glad I’m not a logical person. We are going to help you.”

 

It all seemed to good to be true. “Why? I’ve caused nothing but trouble for you since I got here.”

 

“Maybe so but killing people isn’t the way to solve ones troubles.” She leveled him with a pointed look. “Now regardless of your attempts to stay locked up I’ve decided to not press charges. I also manage to convince the Sheriff that you’re a friend of the family, visiting for a while and that the stunt you pulled was just a prank gone horribly wrong. He’s not completely convinced but you got a way with just a ticket for speeding.”

 

Maybe he should be offended but he could help but agree with Talia. Killing people shouldn’t be the way to solve conflicts. “How did you pull that off? As far as anyone knows I don’t exist.”

 

She threw her head back and laughed. In that moment she looked exactly like Laura or maybe Laura looked exactly like her. “I have my ways. John will be in here soon. If I know as well as I think he’ll most likely try to get the story from you. Don’t tell him anything. I trust him but the less he knows the safer he is. I need to go and sign some papers.”

 

The Sheriff had been mighty suspicious to day the least. Which wasn’t all that surprising considering the way Stiles ended up in the precinct in the first place. He kept asking questions about how exactly he knew the Hales and muttering about how much unnecessary paperwork Stiles had caused him. Stiles dodge the questions with vague answers since he had no idea what lies Talia had fed him and gave him a sheepish look and apologies for the “bad prank”. He totally blamed Peter, hinting that the whole mess was just one big dare-war gone horribly awry. That seemed to appease the Sheriff a little and set him off on a rant about how much Peter liked to make everyone lives so much harder. In the end he let Stiles go with a sharp look and a “Next time you won’t be off so easy, son” before stumbled after Talia on his crutches.

 

In the car Alden kept eyeing Stiles warily through the rearview mirror like Stiles would on any given moment hurl himself out the car door. It was a tad too dramatic for Stiles but he guessed that he earned their distrust. He also pretended that he didn’t hear them lock his door when they drove off. 

 

Stiles was surprised when they didn’t take him back to the Hale house. Instead they stopped in the parking lot of what appeared to small office building. The Hales didn’t say anything to him when they got out of the car, just waited on him to follow with impatient looks. When he got out of the car Talia just walked ahead and entered the office without as word or a backwards glance.

 

“So, no that I’m not grateful and all but why are we here?”

 

Alden gave him a cryptic look before turning towards the office. “It’s better we save this talk for when we’re inside.” He started walking towards the door and held it up, inclining his head towards the door and giving Stiles a quirk of his eyebrow that could only mean: “Get over here”. Something about that seemed so familiar Stiles felt an odd swell in his chest. The smirk that Alden gave him when he stumbled passed him gave him on odd sense of déjà vu. But what confused him the most was the sudden urge he had to lean down and kiss that stupid smirk off his lips, which was crazy. He wasn’t attracted to Alden, like at all, but something about the way he had looked at Stiles felt like kissing him was the natural response, it felt so familiar. Stiles was going crazy. It was the logical conclution.

 

“Ah, Stiles,” Deaton said, pulling Stiles out of his reverie when they entered a room that looked like an examination room. He heard barking from behind a door so Stiles figured that they were in a vet’s clinic. “I hope you’re not planning on running before we can talk this time.”

 

Stiles rubbed his neck and felt his cheeks burn. “If I knew you just wanted to talk I wouldn’t have run.” Deaton gestured towards the examination table. Stiles hobbled over to it and sat down.

 

Deaton glanced between him and Talia who stood by the door. “There was a little misunderstanding,” she said in dismissive way. “Now that we’re all on the same page we can figure out how to deal with this without causing to much damage.”

 

Deaton nodded. “This is a very delicate situation and it seems that Stiles little stunt proved it to be even more complicated than we first thought.”

 

Alden looked confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“That rain came down very hard, didn’t it, Stiles?” He looked at Stiles with a small smile on his lips. “Yet you’re clothes aren’t even wet. Everybody else got drenched.”

 

Stiles just shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

 

Talia’s eyes zeroed in on him. “Did you do that?” she asked, the disbelief in her voice was obvious. She shook her head and turned back to Deaton. “You can’t be serious, Alan? That wasn’t some small parlor trick.”

 

“Oh, I am,” he said, giving her a hard stare. Stiles didn’t really understand what they were talking about. “You must have gotten some advance training to be able to pull that out so easily. Or did you plan that?”

 

“Uh, no?” He couldn’t help making it sound like a question. “I didn’t even do anything. It just happened.”

 

Deaton didn’t look like he believed him. “How did you start the car, Stiles?”

 

Talia eyes grew bigger and she eyed Stiles warily. “I don’t know. It just started.”

 

“But what did you do?”

 

This was getting ridiculous; Stiles knew he hadn’t done anything. “Nothing!”

 

Alden put a hand on his shoulder, ignoring how Talia tensed when he did. Stiles realized that it was the first time any of the Hales had touched him in a non-creepy or menacing way since that morning. That felt like reassurance. “Cars don’t start by themself.”

 

“Of course they don’t,” Stiles scoffed. He was an amnesiac not an idiot. “But I didn’t do anything. I don’t know how to hot-wire cars. I just got really frustrated and yelled and then it started on its own.”

 

Deaton smiled in what looked like satisfaction, like what Stiles had done made every bit of sense to him. “What did you say?”

“Does it matter?” he said and threw his hands up in exasperation. He was done with this conversation. He was so exhausted he just wanted to pass out on the examination table but Deaton incessant staring told him that the quicker he got this over with the sooner he could slip into a much needed coma. “Fine. I told it to start and it did. I know how it sounds that’s why I said that I didn’t do anything.” He looked at Talia who looked pale and chocked. “You might want to take it to a mechanic and have it looked over.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with the car, Stiles,” she mumbled. She seemed to be having an inner crisis. “You right, Alan. This is even more complicated than what any of us could have anticipated. I don’t know how to handle this.”

 

Deaton nodded. “Let’s just take it one step at the time. We can deal with the other things later.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Stiles snapped. He hated how they talked about him as if he wasn’t standing a few feet away. It didn’t help that they treated him like he was a problem that they needed to solve. Like he was a burden.

 

Talia flashed her alpha eyes and he forced himself to calm down. Deaton gave him a somewhat sympathetic smile at least. “What year is it?”

 

Stiles didn’t even… “What do you mean ‘what year is it’? What kind of question is that?”

 

Talia sighed. “Answer the question, Stiles.” There was a hint of growl in her voice.

 

“I-uh. I don’t really know,” he said after thinking about it. It frustrated him. How couldn’t he know what year it was? “It’s like I can’t remember. I don’t even know what month it is.”

 

Deaton nodded like he had expected it, which infuriated Stiles even more. “Then how about I tell you the date. It’s April 24th.” Stiles nodded. “2005.”

 

Stiles scoffed. “No it isn’t. That was ages ago,” he blurted out without even having to think about it.

 

Deaton smiled. “No, that’s today’s date,” he handed Stiles a newspaper that had been lying on a table. “If you don’t know the date then how can you know what date it isn’t?”

 

Stiles thought that that was a stupid question, it didn’t even make sense. “Because I wasn’t born yesterday. Just because you give me an newspaper doesn’t mean that the date is true. It’s obviously old.”

 

“It’s not old.” Deaton’s smug smile made Stiles want to punch him in the face.

 

“It can’t be 2005,” he yelled. He was tired of their game. “In 2005 Bush was president and he isn’t anymore. In 2005 there was no Facebook, smartphones, 9gag or Tumblr. This is stupid I know you’re lying to me!”

 

Talia growled. “I thought you said you knew.”

 

Stiles realized that Alden still had a hand on his shoulder when it squeezed tighter. “None of that make any sense, Stiles. Bush is the president and none of those things exist. You keep talking about things and making references that no one gets because they don’t exist. Yet.”

 

Deaton nodded. “You don’t belong here, Stiles.”

 

None of what they said made any lick of sense. They had to be lying. But something about it seemed to make sense in a strange way, it felt right. It was that feeling that set him off. He felt the edges of his vision darken. He couldn’t breathe.

 

**“I’ve got nowhere to go. I’m rootless.”**

 

 

* * *

 

**Beacon Hills 2013.**

**“For a root, for a leaf, for a branch, for a tree.”**

_It was the incessant talking that woke him up. The voices was so loud that they made his head throb. “Can you not with the talking?” he groaned._

_“ **Stiles!”** everyone yelled in unison. It was the opposite of what he wanted. _

_He cracked open an eye and stared blearily at the crowd that was gathered around his bed. “So I take it I’m alive then. Awesome.”_

_A blur zipped through the room and then he was hugged/cuddled by werewolf. From the mess of hair and the enthusiasm of the hug it was obvious who it was. “I’m okay, Scott,” he said a little tensely. He couldn’t fault him for being there after he had gotten hurt but that didn’t mean everything between them were gone and forgotten._

_“I’m sorry.” He heard a soft sob that made his heart ache. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’ve been a horrible friend and I don’t deserve you.”_

_“Scotty,” Stiles sniffed because of course there were ninjas cutting onions in the room. “I know. I know.”_

_Scott looked up at him with his huge puppy eyes and Stiles knew immediately that he couldn’t ignore him anymore. He missed him too much. They had a lot to talk about and work through but Scott would always be his best friend. He realized that that was what Martha meant by embracing his past. Work through and forgive or don't, but don't ignore. He had to do something at least. Then Scott took a deep breath and his eyes flashed golden. “You smell like other werewolves.”_

_Stiles knew it was an accusation, he had been expected someone to mention it. Though he expected it from Derek but he hadn’t so much as curled his nose even during the long car ride back to Beacon Hills. It had made him angry for some reason._

_“Yeah,” he said with a cheapish smile, trying to sound casual. “I sort of met someone.”_

_That earned him a growl but it came from Derek who looked just as surprised as everyone else at his outburst._

_Scott released his death grip and got up from the bed. “You’re dating werewolf?”_

_It was just like ripping off a Band-Aid, Stiles told himself. He needed to tell them sooner or later even though he knew that Derek knew about it. Deaton must’ve told him about it. “Yeah,” he said, unable to look anyone in the eye. “I’m sort of part of his pack.” Both Derek and Scott growled. Or maybe Deaton had casually neglected that part. “And his aunt is training to be their emissary.”_

_“Thought you left because you were done running with wolves,” Derek growled._

_He had no right to sound betrayed, it was his own fucking fault Stiles left. He had made it very clear that he had no part in his pack. He had almost killed him for crying out loud. “No, I left because I didn’t feel safe.”_

_“And what they just took you in with open arms?”_

_“Yeah, as ridiculous as that might sound to you. Not everyone think I’m a waste of space. There are actually people out there that appreciate what I do for them. Hell, when I risk my life saving their lives they not only do not yell at me, they actually thank me.”_

_“You’re not a waste, Stiles.”_

_“ **I** never said I was.” He met Derek scowl head on. Derek had to learn that not everyone cowered and rolled over just because he was a little mad. Because when was Derek not a little mad?_

_“I mean it,” Derek said with bitter laugh. “I don’t think you’re a waste. I came to you for help!”_

_Now it was Stiles time to laugh. “Yeah and now everything is cool, alright.”_

_Derek’s wolfed out with a snarl. “Derek, stop it,” Scott urged, stepping between him and the bed._

_Derek let out the longest sigh Stiles had ever heard and shifted back. He stared at floor. “Thank you,” he said finally. It was a bit forced but it took Stiles completely by surprise. Derek must’ve sensed his disbelief because he raised his eyes and held Stiles’. “I mean. Thank you, for saving my life.”_

_It sounded so sincere Stiles didn’t no whether to laugh at the absurdity of it or cry in relief. “Okay,” he said, deciding to play nice. “Everything work out? The witch is dead, right?”_

_Allison who had been quiet through the entire exchange sat down next to him on the bed and squeezed his hand. “Yeah, she’s dead.” She gave him her dimpled smile. “I’ve missed you.”_

_He returned her smile, thankful that someone didn’t look at him that he spat in their faces. He glanced over at Isaac who stood, leaning by the door and had been scowling at him since he opened his eyes. It was obvious that he didn’t share Allison’s sentiment. It didn’t matter, Stiles never like him anyways. “I’ve missed you too.”_

 

_Stiles sat up in the bed, suddenly realizing that the most important person wasn’t there. “Dad?” he asked, fear coiling in his stomach._

_“At the station,” Scott said. “He’s been here ever since Deaton checked you over but he couldn’t take anymore time off. You’ve been out for almost two days, Stiles.”_

_“Oh, but everything is okay, right?” Two days was a long time even if he had overexerted himself. “It was just exhaustion?”_

_Derek shook his head and scoffed. “Exhaustion? You sucked the wolfsbane right out of me! You almost died of aconite poisoning!”_

_“Huh,” he said. That was a rookie mistake, he should know better than to do that. He must’ve been even more panicked than he had felt at the time if he did that. “I must’ve forgotten to breathe it out.”_

_Scott shook his head. “I don’t think you did. You passed out in the middle of it. It must’ve been too much.”_

 

_Stiles didn’t remember passing out but it did make sense. If the wolfsbane overwhelmed him in the middle of it, it had nowhere to go but to remain inside of him. It would explain why he been passed out so long until the bad energy slowly worked itself out. “That hasn’t happened before.”_

_Derek scowl grew even more intense, if that was even possible. “You mean you’ve had to do that before?”_

_Stiles couldn’t understand why Derek was so concerned about his safety all of sudden. Or he did but he refused to accept that reason because it didn’t lead to anything that could be considered good. He was finally in a great place in his life so he refused to let Sourwolf make him doubt it and throw it all away. No, the safest reason was because his dad had threatened him with a gruesome death if anything had happened to him. “Yeah, for practice. Sheesh.”_

_“How did you do it?” Scott asked. “It was really impressive and sort of weird because of the whole kissing and mouth-sucking thing. But really awesome, dude. Um, until you… fainted.”_

_Stiles laughed and gave him the old jazz hands. “Magic.”_

**“For something, somebody, that reminded them of me.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fyi, it isn't magic. Not really anyway. It's all semantics, but hey it's matters. I'm going by my interpretation of what Deaton said with the whole mountain ash thing. And Stiles isn't a "spark". Well, he is but not literally. Anyone can be a spark if they now how to ignite, so to speak. :)


	7. Becoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future Derek comes clean. Back in 2005, Stiles learn about how he can do the things he did and things start to make sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks were a little longer than I'd like. Apologies. I'm also hitting the halfway mark of my outline at least chapter-wise. But don't worry, future chapters will be a bit longer.
> 
> Inspired by and quotes from the perfect song My Tears Are Becoming A Sea by M83. 
> 
> Enjoy and please comment with constructive criticism! :)
> 
> I've been working on some fic art but I kind of liked my sketch so I threw together a little one. I'll make a proper one i due time.

 

 

**Beacon Hills, 2014**

**“I’m slowly drifting to you.”**

****

_“That’s not what Peter told me,” Stiles said dismissively. He wasn’t really in the mood to argue with Derek since all they did was fight but that didn’t mean he’d just roll over. Okay, maybe he did enjoy how he could crawl up Derek's ass. Figuratively, of course. Stiles knew for a fact that he couldn't do it literally, even if he still wanted to. Which he promptly told himself that he did not._

_Derek huffed. “He doesn’t know what his talking about.” His usual scowl made an appearance. “Wait. Why are you even talking to Peter?”_

_Stiles smiled sweetly because pissing off Derek was the only thing that kept him from breaking down. “What? You don’t want me to talk to your pack members? Didn’t you say that I should give everyone a chance?”_

_Derek growled and took a couple of steps closer. “Not Peter.”_

_“See that’s not what you said. I distinctly remember it going something like: ‘they’ve changed, something, something, not the same people, growl, I wish I was the moon tonight and those pants make your ass look amazing’.” Derek’s scowl grew to epic proportions but Stiles didn’t miss how his eyes darted down to his skinny jeans. They totally made his ass look amazing. “It’s not like I promised him my firstborn. What’s the big deal?”_

_Derek crowded Stiles against the wall. Stiles could feel his hot breath on the side of his face. “Dammit, Stiles! Don’t. Trust. Peter,” he gritted out between low growls._

_Stiles laughed because Derek was being silly. Well, not silly since he was right but he was stupid if he thought Stiles was going put all his cards on a psycho-killer. But he wasn’t going to dismiss a psycho-killers advice on dealing with other psyco-killers. Derek did not appreciate his laughter. “What? I shouldn’t worship him as the Werewolf Messiah? You know, history won’t look back kindly at us once it’s revealed that we forsake Werewolf Jesus. That story does not end well, just saying.”_

_Derek just narrowed his eyes and threateningly leaned in a little closer, which was completely unnecessary since they were practically inches apart. Stiles held up his hands in surrender. This could go bad if he didn’t stop him now. “Jeez, I’m just kidding.” He shoved Derek until he took a step back with a disgruntled sound and flung himself in the armchair by the couch. “But for the record, if Peter starts gaining followers don’t say I didn’t warn you.”_

_Derek huffed and sat down on the couch. “Noted. Peter?”_

_“Is your uncle. He’s also a werewolf and thinks he’s smooth as shit but honestly—“ Derek’s growl cut him off. Stiles sighed. “Okay, okay. I just ran into him outside of Deaton’s clinic on my way back. Well, I think I ran into him but he could’ve been lurking by the dumpster for hours. Who knows with Peter.”_

_Derek rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So, what? You just decided that it was the perfect time to discuss pack business?”_

_Stiles rolled his eyes. “No, do you think I’m an idiot?” Derek blank face said yes. “Well, I’m not. He started talking to me and it wasn’t like he gave me chance to get away.“_

_Derek was immediately on him, all red eyes and roaming hands all over him in search of any injuries. “He hurt you?”_

 

_Stiles tried to squirm away but the werewolf refused to let him go. “No, he just freaked me out. Sort of like what you’re doing now.”_

_Derek could take a hint apparently. He let him go but he didn’t look very happy about it. He sat back down on the couch and took a couple of deep breaths, letting the Alpha-red bleed out of his eyes. It was only then Stiles realized what Derek had said earlier. “It’s not pack business,” he said firmly. “It’s my business.”_

_Derek eyes snapped up to his. The look he gave Stiles was filled with something indecipherable, something Stiles hadn’t seen before. “Right.”_

_He didn’t sound angry or hurt. It was more like he sounded resigned. Stiles didn’t know what to do with that. He sat down on the couch next to Derek, meeting those bright eyes that always seemed to pierce right through him. “Good.”_

_“You still shouldn’t trust Peter. He’s technically part of the pack but not really. He’s only out for himself.”_

_“Trust me, I remember.” He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “I just... don’t want to die.”_

_Derek put his hand on Stiles thigh, just above the knee, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not going to die, Stiles.”_

_Stiles shook his head and stared down at his feet. He remembered that family he’d seen, butchered and cut in half. Their dead eyes were all he saw when he closed his. “You don’t know that. You didn’t see what they did, what they are capable of. I’m scared, Derek. Really, fucking scared. I can’t go back home. I can’t put all of them at risk after all they've done for me. Fuck, they took me in and made me a part of something good. They aren’t fighters. They wouldn’t stand a chance against those hunters.” He took a shivering breath. “That family hadn’t done anything. I knew them. I used to babysit their kids when they worked because they were too young to control the shift. Barely more than toddlers.”_

_Derek grabbed Stiles chin, pulling him to meet his eyes again. He looked scared too but there was a certainty behind them that was oddly reassuring. “I meant it, Stiles. You’ll always have a place here. We’ll protect you.”_

_Stiles felt a tear slip down his cheek. “Why? I left, joined another pack. You have no obligations towards me.”_

_“I still care about you.”_

_Stiles huffed. “You didn’t care about me before.” He knew it sounded more like an accusation than the levity he was going for. Damn mouth got the better of him._

_Derek pulled Stiles into a hug. “I did, I was just scared. I thought what I wanted was a fling, no complications, so when I realized how invested you’ve gotten I freaked out. It was stupid because deep down my instincts told me that it felt right that I could let my guard down around you but I didn’t want to.”_

_It was everything that Stiles had wanted to hear. Only it was almost three years too late. He pushed Derek away. “I think if you said that before...” He trailed off but Derek seemed to catch on if the guilty look he gave Stiles was anything to go on. ‘Before you jumped into bed with the fucking Darach and decided to trust her’ was what Stiles had wanted to say._

_“I fucked it up. I thought that if I just got you out of my system that I could forget about you. I had never done anything with a guy before. Never wanted to, had never even thought about it before. But I thought that if it just was about feeling good than it didn’t have to mean anything more.”_

_Stiles huffed. “It wasn’t like I had either. Thought people got over that whole gay freak out thing in 90s.”_

_“I know. It’s stupid. I was raised to be accepting and not to judge people and I am. But I'm an adult, I thought I knew what I wanted, who I was, and then suddenly I didn’t anymore and it scared me. It shouldn’t have but it did. Then I thought about how young you were and how badly things go for me and I just couldn’t take that risk.”_

_Stiles pushed off of the couch. They had never had this conversation. Mostly because they both knew that it couldn’t end well so they both avoided it, opting for a tentative peace instead. “I don’t care if you fucked around, Derek. No, that’s a lie. It really fucking hurt that it took you, what? Three weeks?” Derek looked away, ashamed. “It doesn’t matter. I could’ve forgiven you for it. But my dad, Derek? He’s all I’ve got and what you were going to let him die because your psycho girlfriend was on a revenge spree.”_

_Derek pulled at his hair. “I didn’t have a choice!”_

_“What? She was going to withhold sex if you didn’t do whatever she said. Oh, okay. Fuck you.”_

_“She poisoned Cora,” he exclaimed and then he caught himself. He turned on his heel and walked out of the living room. More like fled._

_Stiles rushed after him and grabbed his wrist only to receive a half-assed snarl. It didn’t deter him at all. “What the hell? You can’t just drop that and walk out like the conversation is over.”_

_Derek didn’t turn around but he stopped. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”_

_“Why?” Stiles was completely confused. He grabbed Derek by his shoulders and spun him around. He tried to coax him to meet his eyes but the closest he got was Derek staring at his ear._

_“Because it’s like you said. It didn’t change anything. I was still going to let your dad die. I still hurt you.”_

_Stiles was beginning to understand. “She threatened you?” Derek nodded reluctantly but still didn’t meet his gaze. “Does everyone know this?”_

_Another reluctant nod. Stiles let go of Derek’s wrist and walked back into the living room and slumped down on the couch. He felt Derek sit down next to him as he cradled his head in his hands, trying to massage away the headache that was coming. “You pushed me away. Made me hate you.”_

_Derek put his hand on Stiles shoulder. “It was better that way.”_

_Stiles snorted in lieu of the bitter laugh that wanted to make its way out. “For you maybe.” He looked up and saw Derek pained expression. It made him bite back the next cutting remark that was on his tongue. “So why now? Why reveal your grand scheme now?”_

_Derek finally met his eyes. “I want you to be safe, Stiles. If it’s with another pack that can protect you then it would be alright. But you said it yourself. They aren’t fighters.”_

_“So you just thought you’d swoop in and save the day? How nice of you.” He sighed heavily. “You’re right. Two years ago, I would have jumped at any reason to forgive you. Now, it just feels like… I don’t even know. I have Joseph now.” He knew Derek could sense his hesitation in his voice when he said Joseph's name but he tried to push away the fear. He didn't know if he had anything after this was over but he was going to fight to keep what he could._

_The look that Derek gave him couldn’t be described in any other way than desperately pleading. It was so odd to see Derek that way that Stiles let out a startled gasp. “This isn’t about us. When this is over you can go back or wherever you want to. But please, just let me help you. Let me protect you.”_

_“Okay.” Stiles wasn’t going to forgive him. Didn’t think he could but now he understood everything that had happened and that was something at least. For the first time since he met the werewolf he knew where they both stood. He found himself feeling safer than he had in a long time._

**“The stars and the planets are calling me.**

 

 

****

 

* * *

****

 

 

**Beacon Hills, 2005.**

**“A billion years away from you.**

 

Stiles didn’t know how he was going to deal with everything. He thought he took finding out that not only had he forgotten who he was but apparently he was also a time traveller in stride. Well, at least as well as he could given the circumstances. But deep down, beneath his façade of easy-going humor he felt so lost. He knew that the Hales had probably sensed his anxiety but they were decent enough not to call him out on the lie when he said that he felt fine. They mostly avoided him after the carjacking incident. They were even back to follow him with their eyes when he walked into a room as if he might do something crazy again. He guessed he couldn't hold it against them but it hurt a little when he thought about how he had felt like he might belong with them earlier. 

 

They had driven him back to their house after Stiles had spent some time with Deaton learning about the importance in blocking the memories that seeped through. According to Deaton travelling back in time was something that was supposed to be impossible and the mere fact that he was still alive baffled the vet. Deaton explained that whatever happened to him came at a high price. That universe always balanced itself out. There were records of people who had attempted to manipulate time, though all of them had ended up overwhelming and breaking their minds in the process without any success. Deaton thought he suppose that there is possible that people had successfully done it but changing time isn’t straightforward. Say you travelled back in time to assassinate Hitler before the World War even began, once you accomplished the task you would have created a paradox. If Hitler didn’t start the World War then why did you travel back in time in the first place? At least that is the way Deaton explained it. Stiles figured there were other theories too, like alternate dimensions and self-fulfilling prophecies but he couldn’t argue that Deaton’s theory didn’t make the most sense.

 

Stiles thought about an episode of a TV show he must’ve seen a long time ago—or his future self was going to see—about a girl who jumped into a time stream and was split into different people all across time. Just echoes of her former self. Was that what had happened to him? Was he just a fragment of the person who might not have even been born yet? It made sense though he guessed he couldn’t explain it to the others with out spoiling things. Deaton had been explicit when he told Stiles the dangers of revealing the things he knew about what might happen in the future. He was a wild card, possibly able to change the course of time and without knowing who he was or where he came from it could have devastating effects.

 

It was for this very reason that Deaton had for the following week sat down with Stiles every morning in order to help him block the memories that occasionally came to him. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of not being able to remember but the memory of what had happened a week prior was still fresh on his mind.

 

They had been in the middle of breakfast when he had smelled toast burning. When he told Alden that he had forgotten the toaster they had all looked at him like he had grown a second head.

 

“You can’t seriously tell me that in a house full of werewolves _I_ smell something _you_ can’t,” he had said, shaking his head.

 

They all had stopped eating, watching him with similar shocked expressions. “What are you talking about, Stiles,” Laura had said with forced levity. “The toaster’s not on.”

 

Stiles looked over to the kitchen doorway. The smell had gotten so intense like the room was thick with fog. He stumbled awkwardly with his cast as he rose and coughed, grabbing a napkin to press it against his mouth and nose. “It’s burning,” he wheezed. “ _Fire_.”

 

Derek who had been sitting next to him texting someone was on his feet immediately. “Stiles, listen to me,” he urged, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him so they were face to face. “Nothing’s burning.”

 

The fog was so thick that it he couldn’t breathe anymore. He felt something hot and wet trickle down his nose as he kept wheezing, urging them to run but they didn’t. Talia was on her phone talking to someone. Peter was next to him and tried to pull the napkin from his face, saying something Stiles couldn’t understand. The other sat frozen, watching the scene in horror. He couldn’t breathe.

 

The next thing he knew he was being woken up by Deaton who dabbed his face with a moist towelette. Apparently he had some kind of hallucinatory episode and passed out. Deaton told him he was lucky he passed out. If he had tried to pull the memories further he might have gotten something worse than a severe nosebleed and a migraine that threaten to split his head in two. He was laid up in bed for two days before he had the energy to do anything more than eat, sleep, and the occasional toilet visit.

 

So, he might not be happy with the fact that Deaton was now teaching him how to push the memories away but he didn’t look forward to another migraine so maybe it was for the best. Who needed to know who they were anyhow?

 

The first couple of days they had solely practiced breathing and clearing his mind for a hours at the time. At first Stiles couldn’t focus for more than a spilt second. His mind kept racing at a mile a minute. Then he thought about that man with the strong arms from his memories. He was sure the man had been a werewolf but he couldn’t recall his face or who he was to him no matter how hard he had tried but the safe feeling he felt in his chest afterwards told him how close they were. He trusted him and maybe that man was looking for him somewhere so Stiles forced himself to concentrate for his sake. It was strange but somehow Stiles knew that he must be looking for him and if he couldn’t risking trying to remember who he was then he had to do everything in his power and hope that the other man would be able find Stiles. It gave him something to cling to, something to come back to whenever his mind tried to wander and after a couple of days he could rid his mind of every stray thought and just be in the present. It felt oddly familiar, like maybe he had done it before.

 

Deaton had looked surprised at how fast he had mastered the technique and told him that he was a natural with that knowing look, like he just said an inside joke to someone who wasn’t in the room. It was all very frustrating.

 

 

 **・** **∞・**

 “Did you ever wonder why the Hales took you in without much fuss?” Deaton asked him a week later out of the blue. He had finally removed Stiles cast, which had been itching like crazy for days, and they were now sitting, drinking herbal tea in Deaton’s office.

 

“Because they are…nice?” he couldn’t help but making it sound like question. He had been wondering about that but with everything that had happened it had gotten pushed to the back of his mind. When he asked he had only been given that cryptic response from Mrs. Hale that made no sense.

 

“They are,” he said, sipping his tea with a content smile on his lips. He was the master of dramatics, all right. “But maybe not that nice.”

 

Stiles put down his cup on the desk and crossed his arms. “Is this the part where I mind read you or are you finally going to give me a straight answer. It doesn’t even have to be straight, hell, I’d settle for bi-curious. Maybe even Kinsey 2.”

 

Deaton gave him a unimpressed look before he too put his cup down. “What did Talia tell you earlier?”

 

Stiles sighed. “Frustratingly none-straight answers it is.” He frowned. “She said I smelled like pack. But I'm pretty sure that’s impossible. Right? People don’t just suddenly start to smell like pack? So I figured she probably meant that I smell like someone in their pack. Because that’s not weird, I mean, I have been wearing Peter and Derek’s clothes for weeks now.”

 

Deaton tiny ghost of a smile became a fraction bigger. It could probably be considered a little smirk. “Impossible, no. But you’re right. Usually people don’t suddenly start smelling like pack to werewolves. That’s because becoming a member of the pack is a process that require spending a lot of time with the pack and building trust. It isn’t about smelling like someone in the pack. A person putting on the Alphas clothes would still be considered a threat.”

 

Stiles laughed. “Never heard of a sheep in wolf’s clothing.” Then he sobered when Deaton’s words sunk in. “Wait, are you telling me that I actually smell like I’m a member of their pack? How is that possible?”

**“** There are many different ways. Usually, like I said, it happens gradually over time not under a day. But you did something.”

 

Stiles licked his lips. “Like the car.”

 

“Like the car,” Deaton repeated with a nod.

 

Stiles had tried to ask him about that earlier but Deaton had just shook his head, saying something like “in due time, grasshopper” or some Merlin/Yoda shit like that because in Stiles mind Deaton totally was a mix of every mentor in the movie universe.  “So are we finally talking about the car thing now?”

 

“It seems we are.”

Stiles rubbed the bridge of his nose. “For the love of… Just freaking tell me!”

 

 **“** I wanted to make sure you were ready before I told you something you couldn’t handle,” he said and took a drink from his tea. “But seeing how fast you mastered techniques I’ve been showing you tells me that you’re not a dabbler.”

 

“So it’s true.” He could feel the smile growing on his lips. “I am really ‘not-magic’.”

Now it was Deaton’s turn to look confused. “Why do you say that?”

 

Stiles was outright grinning now. “Because it’s not magic. There’s no such thing as magic, Doc.”

 

The confusion on Deaton face was slowly replaced with a broad smile. Not those tiny ones but an actual fucking smile. “Really? And why do you say that?”

 

“Because magic is the ability to do impossible things. It’s just something people use for things that they can’t explain or for things that doesn’t exist.”

 

Deaton let out a single little chocked gasp. “So it’s true,” he said with a note of wonder in his voice. Then silence.

 

“I thought we were passed the queer already. And I mean that in the archaic sense. Bi-curious, remember?” Stiles said when Deaton had been silent for almost a minute.

 

“You sound like me.” He paused but when Stiles gave him a wave to continue he actually did. “I severely disdain witchcraft and hocus pocus. It’s just an unnecessarily difficult way to things. They use too many crutches.”

 

 **“** Of course,” Stiles said, feigning understanding. Deaton could explain that more thoroughly later. “So the Hales?”

 

“I think you manipulated your scent. When everyone was looking for you Derek said he couldn’t find your scent. It was like it had been wiped away. If Derek hadn’t seemed so sure that you were out there I’m sure they would’ve stopped looking.”

 

That wasn’t the most useful abilities he could think of but maybe it would come in handy if he knew how to control it. Then he remembered something important. “I was really scared when I woke up in the house. They were all growling and wolf-faced so I tried thinking calming thoughts and appearing as non-threatening as possible and then all of sudden they calmed down. I thought that it was jus some mental visualization thing. You know, seeing is believing and all that jazz. Or wait, that’s something else. But did I do that? Did I like Jedi mind trick them? Because that’s fucking awesome.”

 

Deaton snorted. “I think you did. That’s how it works. Knowing what you want and then visualizing it, imagining it happen. It’s all just a matter of a person’s willpower. That’s why I dislike witchcraft. They formulate obscure and unnecessary rituals for things instead of believing in their own power to make things happen.” He shook his head with despise. “It isn’t right.”

 

“That’s why they’ve been avoiding me!” he exclaimed. “I thought it was about the carjacking but it isn’t, right? Well, first I thought they were going to kill me but that was stupid. But it’s because of this, isn’t it? I don’t smell like pack anymore.”

 

 “It seems like you don’t.” Deaton paused, looking like he considered how to properly phrase himself. “I have been reluctant to discuss this with Talia. I thought it was easier for you if I didn’t mention my suspicions about you manipulate them.”

 

Stiles could feel his cheeks burn. “It’s not very nice, I guess. Making them act on their pack instincts to protect me.

 

“Not particularly.” He didn’t sound angry. In fact there was an amused tone to his voice. “But I see how it can be a useful defense mechanism.”

 

“Yeah, why play dead when you can play house,” he said with a sheepish laugh.  “ But okay. So I’m not really special?” That wasn’t really what he had wanted to hear. It made it seem all the less exciting if anyone could do it. “That’s what you’re saying, right? That anyone with strong enough belief can do it.”

 

Deaton nodded. “To a degree but there are limitations. Some people have it easier to do different things in life. This isn’t any different. It’s all about attunement. I’d like to test yours later, but that’s for a different time. I’m not sure if I could do what you did so easily for example. That’s why I was reluctant to talk about it. I wanted to make sure I knew exactly what I was dealing with.”

 

“Yeah, and what is that?”

 

Deaton smiled. “My future apprentice, it seems.”

 

**“I’m on my way.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this version of magic, the whole will aspect of it, fits more into what Deaton said in Season 2.


	8. Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing an ominous presence. Guess who!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being M.I.A. This was suppose to be up more than a week ago. Long story short, I have had some health issues and needed to be hospitalised for a while. Nothing too serious but between being sick and then the crap load of school work that's piling up while I'm resting at home I've been too exhausted to finish this chapter. It's still not exactly where I wished it would be but I thought you guys deserved something for the long wait. I might go over it later when I don't feel like I'm suddenly 50 years older than I am.
> 
> Inspired by and quotes from Green Eyes by Akeboshi.

 

 

**Beacon Hills, 2014.**

**“And the strange green eyes eats away at my soul.”**

_It drizzled as they sat on the uncomfortable chairs, watching the coffin slowly being lowered. It seemed like it was fitting. Stiles tried not to look at anyone. He stayed until the ceremony was over and then made a mad dash to his jeep. He couldn’t stay in Beacon Hills, not after the things he had done. How could he possibly face anyone after it all? He could still remember the broken look Scott had given him when the ambulance took Allison’s body away. He had said that it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t been the one in control. It was the spirit that had possessed him that had compelled him but Stiles still felt guilty. Sure, he hadn’t been able to stop his body from moving but he was one of the reasons the spirit had been awakened in the first place. If he, Scott and Allison hadn’t done that fucking ritual, they would never been bound to the Nemeton. The spirit wouldn’t have been attracted to the darkness in his heart. Allison and Aiden wouldn’t have had to pay the price._

_He parked the jeep in the driveway, thanking his lucky star yet again that his dad couldn’t make it to the funeral because of work. Stiles scratched and pulled at his hair as he thought about what he was going to do. He had to leave but he didn’t know how he could do it without hurting anyone more than he already had. As he closed the front door he took a deep breath, tempering down the panic that buzzed under his skin. He had to leave. His dad shift was over in about an hour so he had to be quick. Stiles ran up the stairs and pulled out the duffle bag from under his bed and began piling clothes in it._

_“So you’re just going to run.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and Derek didn’t sound angry. It startled Stiles more than his sudden arrival. He didn’t dare to so much look at the man, fearing what he might catch when he was unfocused and agitated._

_He allowed himself a calming breath, trying to quiet his rabbiting heartbeat, before he turned around and faced the werewolf leaning against the doorpost with his arms crossed. He slapped on his wide danger-danger-shit-fuck-I’m-going-to-die smile. “You used the door this time. Just when I think I have you figured out there you go and shake things up just to scare the crap out of me again.”_

_Derek didn’t say anything, just kept on looking at Stile with intense laser focus. They both stood in silence as the minutes passed, waiting for the other to make a move._

_Stiles façade falter first. It was inevitable. “I can’t stay.”_

_Derek still didn’t respond and he didn’t even move from his spot in the doorway._

_Stiles felt tears prickle his eyes. “How can I stay after this?” he snapped at the werewolf who only watched him with his stony expression. “I can see the way you look at me. Like I’m still not all here. Like I’m still dangerous and you’re right. I killed them, like I killed—“ His voice broke. He still couldn’t finish that sentence. “I may have washed their blood of my hands—literally—but it still there. I don’t need to be a mind reader to know what everyone is thinking. It’s fucking clear as day because it’s the same look I see in the mirror. Scott can’t even look me in the eyes anymore and I don’t blame him. Hell, I can’t even look myself in the eyes.”_

_Derek only watched as the tears welled and slipped down Stiles cheeks._

_Stiles scrubbed his face. “How can you still want me to stay?” he yelled at the top of his lungs, letting all the fear, anger and loss finally seep into his voice._

_Derek pushed off the doorpost in a flurry of movement too fast for Stiles to make out. For a split second he thought he was going to get mauled then he was pulled into the fiercest hug he have ever experienced. Derek didn’t say anything just stroked Stiles back and made a soothing sound until the brunt of his crying had died out._

_  
Stiles tried to push him off once he had calmed down but the alpha wouldn’t budge. He continued to nuzzle Stiles neck lazily even letting his tongue lap his pulse point occasionally. The steady comforting made Stiles both tremble with unadulterated want and guilt for even feeling it in the first place. “I’m no good, Derek.” He was surprised at how small his voice sounded. It was barely a whisper._

_“None of us are.” Derek tongue moved to swipe at Stiles cheek. His mouth curled slightly and he made a small disapproving sound like he didn’t like the taste of Stiles tears yet he didn’t stop._

_Stiles made a needy sound that he would regret and deny should anyone ask. “Derek, please.” He didn’t even know what he was asking for. He didn’t want Derek to stop. He didn’t want Derek to leave him. But he knew he didn’t deserve to feel safe, wanted and secure when he had left people feeling devastated._

_He was just about to say something else when Derek placed his lips on Stiles’ in a delicate kiss. It was so soft and tender that Stiles almost jerked back in surprise but his body had a mind on its own. He returned the kiss in eager desperation, letting his lips part when Derek’s tongue pressed against his lower lip and let himself get swept away by the mere sensation of it. Derek had never kissed him before. Not like that. The things they had done was just pressing their lips together, breathing the same air, and sharing saliva compared to that kiss. It was everything Stiles had ever wanted and everything he didn't feel he'd ever deserve. It was addicting._

_Derek urged him over to the bed as he stripped him off his shirt and pushed Stiles down with reverence. After he had fumbled with his pant button for a while and finally pushed down his jeans and underwear, the look he gave Stiles was one of complete awe. It made Stiles ache inside._

_That was the first night that Derek ever made love to him instead of pushing him down into the mattress and fucking him like he was something he could conquer. It wasn’t an issue of him being gentle or not. Lovemaking doesn’t have to be slow and tender, it can be rough and passionate and that was exactly what they had done. But it was the moments when Derek had stared into Stiles’ eyes, as his cock slipped in and out of him, like he could put all the words he could never say into those looks that made all the difference. Maybe he could if Stiles let him. Maybe when he finally did Stiles would actually believe him. Instead of thinking about it he fell asleep cradled in a full body embrace, feeling Derek breath against his neck like a soothing lullaby._

**“Slowly it makes me realize I didn’t mean to make you cry.”**

**Beacon Hills, 2005.**

**“When the dream dries out in front of you, is when it comes.”**

Stiles was sitting in the kitchen thinking over the past couple of weeks while quietly munching on a sandwich. It was almost 3 A.M but he had been lying in bed for hours waiting for a sleep that never came so he figured that maybe a snack might help. Well, not really but that was the excuse he’d go for if anyone caught him. He was just bored as hell and had all this restless energy he hadn’t been able to shake since he started training with Deaton so why not just eat? At least he’d have something to do with his body while his brain kept going a mile a minute.

 

It had been three weeks since Stiles and Deaton’s talk and even though he knew the man was telling the truth about the time-travel he still couldn’t really wrap his mind around it. The whole “the Will and the Word” he was completely on board with. It was awesome. Deaton had as promised decided to test his affinities to the elements, which was an extremely unpleasant ordeal. Let’s just say that it involved nakedness and icy water. There were literally ice cubes floating around in the water. That had been less awesome. In fact he might go so far as to say that it was the worst and that was not a hyperbole. Stiles had for a moment entertained the idea that Deaton would give him a piece of paper that would react to his touch like in Naruto but the man had just scoffed at him like he was insane. He was probably right. There’s nothing crazy about an ice cold bath for 30 minutes, some people might even pay hundreds of dollars for it if you added some nice smelling herbs and called it a therapeutic spa treatment.

 

At least it hadn’t been for nothing. After he was done, while he stood shivering in a towel, Deaton had explained how elements work. Most people had an affinity for one or two but it wasn’t uncommon at all to not have a stronger connection to an element. Because that was the thing, it was kind of a trade off. The four elements came in pairs that were opposites. Fire and Water. Air and Earth. They also all had traits that were associated with the element. Air was the intellectual, the thinking, the logical, and also governed communication. Earth was its exact opposite; the materialistic, the stable, and the part of us that was anchored in the here and now. It might be were the phrase down to earth came from. Fire was burning passion and ambition. But it was also violent and selfish, burning through anything in its path. Water was emotional, perceptive and fluid. It could be caring and nurturing like the ocean yet unforgiving like the artic tundra. When Deaton had explained Stiles wasn’t surprised to hear that he had a very strong connection to both Air and Water, almost to the point where he almost no affinity for Earth and Fire. It sounded right. He thought he could be that. A caring, logical, always talking person. It didn’t bother him that Deaton was concerned about the fact that Stiles might not be able to manipulate Earth and Fire and all unless he trained his mind mercilessly or had an exceptionally strong will naturally. That was the trade off. The stronger connection you had to one element the weaker the one was to the opposing element. A balanced person had almost no affinity to any element which could be favorable. A Jack of all traits, but sadly it meant that you would never be more than mediocre in any facet of manipulating the elements.

  
Afterwards they actually began training. Deaton taught Stiles that with his strong connection to Water he should be able to pick up on emotions from around him like how a werewolf could use their senses to pick out certain feelings. When Stiles could actually feel Deaton’s frustration about how Stiles not took it seriously like it was his own for the first time he laughed out loud. It was awesome but it was also like a dam had broken in his mind or maybe it was just his inherit curiosity—since he was an “Air person”. All of sudden he could feel Alden’s interest when Talia came up behind him and massaged his shoulders when he was cooking or how Derek was brooding over his puppy love-crush and simultaneously turned on while he was texting—or maybe sexting—said crush. It creeped him the fuck out so he took extra care to reign it in whenever possible. But apart from the ickiness of middle aged people’s arousals and teenage angst-boners it was pretty shit. As in, the shit. He felt like Sookie Stackhouse and he didn’t even had to listen to boring people’s disgusting thoughts all day.

 

Deaton had also taught him how he could control his scent. It made sense that he could do it. Scent was how most animals communicated and he was had such a strong connection to Air that he could do it without even being conscious of it. Since werewolves noses was strong enough to pick up on pheromones like that and had primal instincts that made them want to react accordingly Stiles could use it to his advantage. But it wasn’t limitless or mind control—more like social cues that some would respond to subconsciously—and apparently it wasn’t likely that bitten werewolves would care at all since they tended to differentiate between their werewolf instincts and their human ones, but it could be used to diffuse situations or make a pack of strange werewolves treat him like a family member and not like a potential threat while he lived with them. They had both agreed that although it was a little conniving it was safer and easier if the werewolves weren’t on edge all the time. When he confessed to Talia and Alden what he was doing they didn’t seem all that upset if only a little hesitant. Stiles figured that the "I'm part of your pack, you can trust me" scent that might have something to do with it.

 

Stiles finished his sandwich and hopped off the kitchen counter. Just as he was going to put the carton of juice back in the fridge he heard a noise from outside. It sounded like footsteps, which was crazy because he could feel that everyone was asleep in the house upstairs. He was just going to ignore it at first but then he felt a flicker of something that lasted a mere fragment of a second. He could probably never describe that feeling he caught if he tried but it was something vile and sinister that made his skin crawl.

 

Stiles knew he should call out for someone. That he might make the biggest mistake in his life going outside on his own, but he didn’t want to risk scaring off whoever was outside. He crept towards the door and tried to listen to the shuffling steps that came closer. Towards the kitchen door. Stiles cursed mentally and looked around for anything that he could use to defend himself but the only thing close at hand was the rolling pin on the counter that Alden had been using earlier in the evening. He grabbed and poised himself so he would be just behind the door when it opened. He only needed to whack them really in the back of the head and pray to whoever listened that there wasn’t more than one. He took a shaky breath when he heard the door handle being pushed down and clutched the rolling pin with both hands. He could do it.

 

He did do it. Just as the intruder moved into his field of vision he slammed the rolling pin down with all his strength. Stiles caught the guy just at the back of the head where the spine connects to the skull with enough force to snap the rolling pin in two. Whether the crunch came from the man’s skull or the rolling pin, Stiles didn’t know but he didn’t think he’d ever forget the sound. The man crumpled to floor.

 

Stiles let himself grin as he moved over to the man who was clearly unconscious or maybe dead. He had done it he had protected the pack all on his his own… from Derek? _Shit, shit, shit_ , Stiles cursed. Stiles scrambled to get the kitchen towel and pushed against the gash on Derek’s head.

 

The young werewolf stirred with a groaned. “What the hell, Stiles!”

 

 Stiles almost laughed because of course that would be the first thing out of mouth. “What the hell me? What the hell you!” he hissed low, because he didn’t see any need to wake up the other werewolves since he had just attacked one of them. “You scared the shit out me.”

 

Derek made a move to sit up but he was still a little wobbly. He looked at Stiles with slightly unfocused eyes. “You cracked my skull.” Derek looked at the discarded weapon on the floor. “With Dad’s rolling pin.”

 

Stiles tried to suppress his grin he really did but he had a feeling it showed on his face if Derek’s scowl was anything to go by. It wasn’t like he was proud that he had hurt Derek but it wasn’t every day a mere human could get the drop on a werewolf. “Yeah, sorry about that. I thought you were a burglar or serial killer or something.”

 

Derek huffed as he tried to stand up but almost fell over if Stiles hadn’t caught him. He was still a little dazed but he was already healing so at least Stiles didn’t cause too much damage. “So you decided the best way to handle it was to hide behind the door with a rolling pin?” Derek leaned heavily against Stiles and shook his head. “Why didn’t you call out to everyone else? You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

 

“Excuse me, but _I_ just K.O’d your werewolf ass,” Stiles muttered indignantly. “And since your using me as a crutch I don’t think you have any right to lecture me about danger. Why the hell are you out anyways?”

 

Derek scowled. “Just because I didn’t think anyone would jump out from behind doors in my own house.”

 

“Deflecting,” Stiles huffed. “I should know, I’m an expert. Why are you not in bed?”

 

Derek didn’t answer instead he just scowled deeper.

 

Stiles smiled. “Okay let me guess. Girlfriend?” Derek still didn’t say anyting. “Boyfriend?” It was surprising how Derek could manage to look more uncomfortable and angry but he did. “I take no one knows of your little nightly visits.”

 

Still no response.

 

“You don’t talk about anyone but I know you're texting someone all the time so it’s a secret. Is it someone you shouldn’t be dating? Is it a teacher because that’s a little gross, dude?”

 

Derek growled low. “Shut up, Stiles,” he hissed then he froze. He put a finger against his mouth and his gaze flickered towards the ceiling meaningfully. Stiles could take a hint but he wasn’t willing to let it go. Something still felt off. That feeling he had felt couldn’t have come from Derek, right?

 

Derek must’ve seen the determination in his eyes because he sighed and mouthed ‘Tomorrow’ and then stalked out of the kitchen so quietly he might as well have been a ghost.

 

It didn’t feel right. Stiles was still on edge when he tip-toed up to the guest bedroom where he slept. He didn’t sleep well at all. He kept dreaming of fire.

 

 

**“Wherever you go, whatever you do, you’re going to hear dark footsteps coming after you tonight.”**

**Beacon Hills, 2014**

**“’Cause I still believe, believe in you.”**

_Joseph and Derek were growling at each other. Stiles stood between them debating whether he should duck out and let them duke it out or punch them both in the face. Maybe a swift slap with a rolled up newspaper on their noses would take care of it._

_Stiles sighed. “If you two don’t stop that right this second I swear to God I’ll get a squirt bottle. “ He glared at them both._

_Joseph stopped immediately and with a smug grin. “I don’t mind getting a little wet. You said you think my hair is sexy wet.” He looked directly at Derek as he said it because he was an asshole. It’s one of the reasons Stiles loved him so much. He had a thing for smug jerks; it was something he was willing to admit._

_Derek eyes bled red for a moment and then he quieted down as well. He still looked just as murderous though but at least it was a step in the right direction._

_“So I take it no formal introductions are necessary?” They both glared each other silently. Stiles could feel their hostility and it made him on edge. He turned to Joseph, desperate to fill the silence with anything. “How did you find me?”_

_Joseph gave him the ' **l** ook'. The one Stiles hated because it basically meant 'You're being an idiot, Stiles'.“I’ve been all around America looking for you. Been to every town and city to no avail so I was about to expand my search to Mexico but then I thought: ‘Hmm, maybe he went back to his home town.’ So I came here on a whim and imagine my surprise when I caught your scent and followed it your childhood home.”_

_Stiles laughed. Even though it hadn’t been that long he had missed Joseph special brand of wit. “I get your point.”_

_Joseph stalked over to him and enveloped him in hug, nuzzling his neck. “I was worried.” Then he kissed him much to Derek displeasure if the rumbling growl coming from somewhere behind them was anything to go by. Stiles couldn't find it in himself to care. When they came up for air there was tears brimming in Joseph’s eyes. “When we found the Jones I thought that they had gotten you too. I thought I had lost you.”_

_Stiles kissed him on each cheek and wiped at his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. They saw me and chased after me. I couldn’t lead them back to you. I should’ve called but I was scared what you would do. I never meant to leave you.”_

_Derek scoffed._

_Joseph bristled and Stiles could feel the hostility coming close to it boiling point so he turned around and fixed the alpha with the angriest glare he could muster. It could probably intimidate a puppy, maybe, he wasn’t sure. Still. “Something you want to say, sourwolf?”_

_Derek just smirked. “No.”_

_Stiles narrowed his eyes but let it go because Joseph was settling down even if he was still holding Stiles against he chest like Derek might snatch him away at any moment. He herded the werewolf towards the couch and sat down to explain the situation. It wasn’t pleasant but Joseph listened without interrupting him and once he was done he just punched him in the arm and called him an idiot. Even though there was heat when he said it there was still his usual fond undertone in his voice so maybe Stiles hadn’t screwed everything up completely. Afterwards Joseph called his mother and told her that he had found Stiles and explained the situation. Derek refused to let another Alpha come into his territory and another fight erupted._

_They were once again standing and growling at each other with Stiles caught between them. “He’s part of my pack. I won’t leave if he’s in danger. This is our responsibility not yours,” Joseph yelled._

_Derek scoffed. “He came to me for help and didn’t even tell you what happened until you came here. I don't think he wants your help.”_

_“You think he wants you?” Joseph asked incredulous. “You can’t be serious?”_

_Derek smirked. “I’m not the one he left behind. You’re not fighters, you couldn’t protect him even if you tried.”_

_“Just because we don’t go around posturing and attracting danger doesn’t mean I can’t fight when I need to.” Joseph pushed Stiles behind him.  “Besides, the way I here it you couldn’t protect anyone in your pack, not even from yourself.”_

_Derek was on him so fast Stiles couldn’t even catch his movement. They landed on the coffee table that shattered under their weight. In that moment Stiles really wished he were a Banshee so he could scream out his frustration and just destroy shit with his voice. It would be dramatic enough and maybe then they would stop. “Fucking enough!” he snapped and grabbed a hold of whatever was in front of him and tried to pull it with him using his entire weight. It happened to be the back pocket on Derek’s jeans, which were all kinds of awkward. Stiles thought that maybe Derek finally took a step back was not so much because Stiles actually had pulled him off Joseph but because Derek didn’t want to get pantsed in the middle of a fight. Derek's special brand of fighting was 60% posturing, 10% eyebrows and rest was claws so it wouldn't be that surprising._

_Joseph pulled Stiles away from Derek as soon as the fighting stopped. He was bleeding from a gash on his chest but he didn’t seem all that fazed by it. He also had given as good as he had gotten. Derek had a deep wound on his shoulder from Joseph’s fangs._

_Derek winced as he rolled his shoulder just for a second. It wasn’t really a wince and no one would probably see it if they didn’t know what to look for but Stiles did. “I guess you know some moves after all.” Derek huffed a settled down on the armchair._

_Joseph pulled Stiles down with him when he sat down on the couch. “Stiles might have exaggerated your gross incompetence a bit.”_

_To Stiles surprise Derek actually let out a short bark of laughter. “Forget gun-happy hunters I think there’s some kind of flying pig abomination somewhere out there that needs to be taken care of.”_

_They both gave Stiles an unimpressed look. Really, hell must be ice cold._

_In the end they managed to come to an agreement. Derek still refused to let anyone from their pack come into his territory but he allowed Joseph to stick around. They came up with a plan that seemed too clever, too good, to pass up. It all went great just until the moment it didn’t. Then everything turned to shit._

**・** **∞・**

_“I’m sorry, Martha” Stiles whispered between sobs. He clung to her desperately fearing that any moment she would shove him away. “It’s all my fault.”_

_She never did. “I know, child,” she hushed, he could feel her grief. He could taste her own tears that were running down her cheeks. It made him sick. He wanted her to push him away, to scream at him, to hurt him. But she was gentle and comforting._

_She took him up to his bed, helped him take off his clothes and tucked him in just like a mother would. Stiles was so exhausted, he tried to fight it but it was impossible. He had driven for hours only to be met with the grieving pack. There had been yelling—mostly from Joseph’s parents—threats, and crying. Buckets upon buckets of ugly crying—mostly from Stiles. He hadn’t said anything to their accusations because what could he say except what had already been said and the platitudes he knew would mean nothing to them. He didn’t even believe them himself. It was his fault. Martha was the one who defended him in his stead. She was the one who had been on his side from the very beginning when the pack was weary of him because of the rumors they had heard about Beacon Hills. She was the one who pushed everyone to accept him with her complete, unfaltering trust in him. Now Stiles had betrayed that trust. Betrayed the pack and one of their own was dead. It was his fault._

_He felt his eyes grow heavy as Martha stroked his hair. “Sorry,” he mumbled one last time as his eyes slipped close._

_He felt the brush of Martha’s dry lips as she kissed him tenderly on the forehead. “No, I’m sorry, child. You deserve better than this.”_

_When he woke up that morning it was to a quiet house. There was no one there, no note, nothing. Stiles knew there wouldn’t be but it didn’t hurt any less. He didn’t feel the pack bond thrumming in the back of his mind anymore like comforting present. He just felt empty and alone._

_He never blamed them, didn’t think he ever could, instead he drove back to his aunt’s house and went to school._

**“No matter what they say, the clouds will go away someday for you.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So should I be more graphic with the sex? I don't know. I kind of want it to be tasteful and not to explicit. Not that I don't mind, because I'm just as pervy as the next guy, but for this story I don't really want it to be in focus or take away from the story. Leave your thoughts, please!
> 
> Oh, and just so it's super clear the first future-flash is from about a year after the other one. You know, just to be as confusing as possible. If you want some additional details check out the Timeline!


End file.
